


lately you're the only human I believe in

by Mercurians



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Angst, Gentle tender feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M rating because there is one sex chapter, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Trauma, but just one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurians/pseuds/Mercurians
Summary: Saeran was a mess of impulses and confused motivations, a cunning hacker and a doleful brother and an anxious violent mess all at once, bearing no sense of which identity to side with from one moment to the next. Yoosung was a puppy dog on a sunbeam. They seemed to get along.This is a non-chronological collection of short fics and vignettes exploring a Saeran/Yoosung relationship.





	1. the right words

**Author's Note:**

> Coming back to edit this note now that the story is finished. The following short fics take place within the endgame 707/MC canon, pretty much after the events of the game and (for the most part) the secret endings. I tweaked some details for my own purposes. Each chapter belongs to the same storyline, and while they're not chronological, I paid close attention to how I ordered each story. I hope I developed things in a pretty satisfying way.
> 
> Admittedly the first few chapters are a bit rough, but I'm really proud of where this fic and my writing ended up. I hope people reading for the first time can be patient with my initial clumsiness.
> 
> Don't worry too much about the chronology, and enjoy. ★

Saeran woke up gasping. Feeling a squeezing pressure at his waist, his hands instinctively grasped his own torso, and he drew his knees up toward his chest. But his panic response was brief. With his eyes open, Saeran could recognize the sheets below him and the empty white wall in front of his face, barely lit by the streetlights outside. And he remembered where he fell asleep last night, recognized the arms pulled tightly around him and the smooth chest pressed against his back.

Saeran let out a slow, shuddering breath. “Yoosung?”

There was no audible reply, just a small huff of hot breath on his upper spine. Yoosung’s arms relaxed a bit, relieving some of Saeran’s discomfort, but his torso stayed exactly how it was, flush with the length of Saeran’s back.

Saeran listened to his partner’s soft breathing, staring at that blank wall. “Was it… a nightmare?”

Still silence for a moment, and then he felt the tip of Yoosung’s nose bob up and down against his spine in a quick nod.

“Oh,” Saeran said. “Oh.” He lacked the correct words for this situation. He lacked the words for most intimate situations, and he feared saying something scary or aggressive by mistake. But Saeran knew that touch—gentle, appropriate touch—was usually welcome in moments like these. He placed his palms against Yoosung’s forearms that held him, and slowly rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry that you had a nightmare,” he said.

Yoosung said something barely audible, his words quiet and muffled. Saeran wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it.

“Di-Did you say something?”

“Please don’t disappear,” Yoosung repeated.

The room was dark and it was quiet. There was a heater running in the dorms, and occasionally cars passed in the streets outside. But all that Saeran could hear was Yoosung’s slow breathing. And all he could see was the white painted wall, slightly bumpy and completely blank, holding no answers for him and no empathy for his current situation. Saeran didn’t have the words of comfort that Yoosung needed. He didn’t have the reassurances that Yoosung deserved. All that he had was empty, superficial answers.

“I won’t disappear.”

Yoosung held him a little tighter. “Please don’t, Saeran. And please just tell me if you’re ever planning to leave. Don’t leave me here alone, wondering where you went.”

Saeran understood now that this wasn’t about him, not completely. “I don’t plan to leave.” he said. “I don’t want to. I would tell you if I did, but I….” His voice broke. “I really, really don’t want to leave.”

He felt Yoosung’s cheek press against his back. “Thank you.”

Saeran exhaled. Those words were okay, weren’t they? Yoosung seemed content.

“You have warm hands,” Yoosung said, reminding Saeran that he was still gripping his forearms.

“Do I?”

Yoosung nodded. “Yeah. You’re always really warm. You’re like my space heater.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.”

Saeran smiled a little. He felt good.


	2. first contact

“Do you want to upload a profile picture?”

“No,” Saeran answered, a little too forcefully. He took a breath. “No thank you.” Was that an overcorrection? Who knows. Saeran mostly wanted his brother to stop hovering over his shoulder, and he’d feign as much politeness as necessary to make that happen.

Saeyoung, who seemed to pick up on his discomfort, stood up. “Well, let me know if the app gives you any trouble. There’s a bottle of soda with my name on it, so….”

Saeran watched his brother leave the room. The kitchen was down the hall, but he knew that Saeyoung was probably standing just around the corner, listening. That anxious mess could barely leave Saeran out of his sight for a second. But, well. Maybe Saeran deserved that.

Whatever.

Saeran opened the messenger app. Staring at the initial download screen, he realized that this would be his first time observing the interface as a regular user, rather than a hacker. It was a surreal feeling, if he was being honest with himself. Like being the murderer invited to his victim’s family reunion.

In a quick movement, Saeran force-closed the app.

What was he doing? No one would want to talk to him. No one was going to welcome him. And if they did, they were patronizing idiots. Either way, what good would it do to buddy up with Saeyoung’s friends? Was he prepared to fall deeper into this sham of a life Saeyoung had set up for him?

But, he reminded himself, he had no other sham of a life to return to. For now, this was it. Saeran had no idea what to think or want from one moment to the next. And he couldn’t exactly quit this life, either, thanks to his brother’s constant supervision. So at the very least, he could stay in motion.

Saeran opened the app once more, this time making it to the homepage. Two people were already online, the actor and the college student. Could’ve been worse.

He entered the chatroom and pretended that his stomach didn’t feel like like a cotton candy machine.

> _Unknown has entered the chatroom._
> 
> **Unknown:** Ugh…
> 
> **ZEN:** ??
> 
> **Yoosung★:** WOAH
> 
> **Unknown:** Saeyoung,  
>    
>  **Unknown:** when you read this, please fix my username….

Not much chance for a casual entrance. “Yoosung★” was already flooding the chat with a string of shocked emojis. They were accompanied by an obnoxious voice clip, for reasons that Saeran neither understood nor had the patience for.

> **ZEN:** Yoosung, cut it out.  
>    
>  **ZEN:** This is… Saeran, right?
> 
> **Yoosung★:** omg
> 
> **Unknown:** Yes…
> 
> **Unknown:** The app set my name automatically.
> 
> **Unknown:** … But I installed it legitimately this time.
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Saeran!!
> 
> **Unknown:** Just to be clear.
> 
> **ZEN:** I have to admit, it was a shock to see that name come up after everything that happened.
> 
> **ZEN:** But… don’t take it personally?
> 
> **Yoosung★:** I can’t believe we’re talking like this.
> 
> **Yoosung★:** I have so many things that I want to ask you!
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Like…

Uncertain of what to type in response, Saeran watched the chat and waited. Oddly, a half a minute went by without any additional messages.

> **Unknown:** Like…?
> 
> **ZEN:** Uhh, Yoosung?
> 
> **ZEN:** Are you still typing…?
> 
> **ZEN:** Please don’t overload him with questions…
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Are you and Seven… I mean, Saeyoung really twins? Are you identical? Do you look the same? What was it like to grow up with him? Also how are you feeling? Are you adjusting well? Saeyoung said you’re doing better lately. When do we get to meet you? Are you going to join RFA? Also do you like video games?
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Oops;;
> 
> **ZEN:** Yoosung…
> 
> **Yoosung★** : I hit send lol
> 
> **Unknown:** Uh,
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Sorry! You can ignore that.
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Zen’s right.
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Let’s get to know each other more naturally ^^
> 
> **Unknown:** … Thanks...
> 
> **ZEN:** Feel free to ask us whatever you want, though.
> 
> **ZEN:** I’m sure you must be curious.

Zen sent an emoji of himself giving a thumbs up. Saeran didn’t write a response, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He knew that he wouldn’t need to respond to the wall of questions, but it was uncomfortable to realize that he had no idea how to answer half of them at all. _Would_ he be joining the RFA? _Was_ he adjusting? When _would_ he be capable of meeting the others, signalling the end of his period of over-protective, brotherly isolation?

> **Unknown:** I can’t think of any questions.
> 
> **Unknown:** But to answer one of yours,
> 
> **Unknown:** I don’t know when I will be meeting any of you.
> 
> **Unknown:** I hope… that maybe it can happen soon.
> 
> **ZEN:** ^^ Agreed.

Yoosung sent a crying emoji.

> **Yoosung★:** Saeran, I’m touched!
> 
> **Yoosung★:** Let’s become good friends ^^

It happened just like that. From Former Existential Threat to New Friend in the span of about four minutes. There was a lot to unpack here, Saeran realized. Much to feel mortified and guilty about. Much to distrust. Much excitement to experience and then undermine and then repress and then tentatively acknowledge and then ignore. But all of that would happen later. For the time being, the chat was surprisingly comfortable, and Saeran felt like he could finish the conversation before he would need to hyper-analyze.

Maybe he could even enjoy it?


	3. engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one starts with some Saeyoung/MC stuff, I guess! No worries, though, our boys are still the stars.

From the outside, no one would know it was an engagement party. But to her it was special. Saeyoung had taken the time to clean the entire house, something rare and momentous in itself. Refreshments were limited to her favorite junk foods and two bottles of wine that Jumin had ordered in. But most importantly, all of her new closest friends… no, her new second family was assembled together to celebrate something important, something with a significance they all deeply, silently understood. It wasn’t a normal engagement party, but to her, it was perfect.

A couple of different conversations were happening around the room, but she was happy just enjoying the momentarily silent company of her fiance. They were seated side by side on the couch, Saeyoung’s hands holding hers in her lap and her head resting on his shoulder. Quiet, peaceful moments like these had been rare in the first months of their relationship. She smiled involuntarily realizing that she could now look forward to a lifetime of them.

A particular conversation happening across the room caught her eye. As she watched it unfold, a feeling of surprised excitement formed in her.

“Saeyoung.”

“Mm?”

“Look it. Look at what’s happening over there.”

Together they observed. Saeran was seated at the furthest cushion of their other couch, hands in his lap, looking small and polite and uncomfortable in a way he appeared fairly often recently. But seated two feet away was Yoosung, legs pulled up on the couch, arms gesturing now and then as he spoke to Saeran about something intently. Watching them socialize was enough to give Saeyoung a feeling of relief. (Two hours ago it was, Will he be scared to meet everyone? Will he feel left out? Will the other members talk to him?) 

There was something else, though.

Yoosung was talking excitedly about something that his secret observers couldn’t hear. Saeran returned a small remark. As Yoosung responded he looked taken aback, maybe a bit offended. Uh, oh. Saeran’s shoulders slumped, his eyes cast downward. Only a moment later, though, Yoosung was laughing genuinely and waving his hands. Saeran’s face showed a peculiar smile, and then he laughed as well. Saeran said something with a sardonic expression. But Yoosung, it seemed, just kept smiling and chatting and giving space for Saeran to speak, too.

She looked up at Saeyoung, and by the look on his face, he’d seen it too.

“Looks like a fun conversation they’re having,” she said.

Saeyoung’s eyes narrowed. “So many different instincts right now. Not sure whether to make fun of them, give my bro a high five, or threaten to beat Yoosung up.”

She laughed. “There could be time for all three, eventually. But I think we should let this play out for now.”

“You’re right.” Saeyoung sighed, a small new weight of anxiety added to his already-heavy load. Even more to think about. But instead he put a hand on his fiancee’s cheek and fixed his gaze into hers. “Let’s just focus on what’s important right now.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s not dumb! It really works. I read all about it on a science website.”

“A science website,” Saeran repeated. “So what, was it written in comic sans?”

“No!” Yoosung said through giggles. He calmed his laughter before continuing. “It was written by a doctor. There were studies done to back it up and everything.”

“If you say so….” Saeran rested his head in his hand, his arm propped up on the side of the couch.

“It’s true! So as I was saying, I took a twenty minute nap before I came here, and then in six hours, I’m allowed to sleep for an hour and a half. The full schedule is kind of complicated, but once I’m in the habit, I’ll only need to sleep for four hours a day. Think of how efficient I’ll be!”

“I see how often you’re in the messenger,” Saeran said softly. “Don’t you already sleep four hours a day?”

Yoosung laughed again. Saeran marveled at the way Yoosung laughed at almost every sarcastic thing he said. Usually Saeran avoided insults, playful or not. Aside from the occasional jab at his brother, he didn’t feel comfortable with teasing others. Saeran didn’t trust his ability to tell where the line was, to understand where things turned from funny to hurtful. It would be so easy to accidentally say the wrong thing, to out himself as the cruel, judgemental person he was, and wind up hated once again.

But Yoosung was just too easy. Saeran had to indulge himself, enjoying Yoosung’s laughter like a new toy.

“Not all the time!” Yoosung said. “And eventually I have to catch up on the sleep I’ve missed, or else I get really sick. I always catch a cold.”

Saeran smiled. “Okay. But what could you possibly need all that extra time for? I thought all you did was play games.”

Yoosung’s face fell a little, and Saeran could feel his stomach flip. That was it. There was the line. Everyone made fun of Yoosung’s gaming habit, but of course it wasn’t appropriate for Saeran. They barely knew each other. It was just cruel. It was judgemental and rude. Saeran looked at his knees, ready for Yoosung to yell or simply to walk away.

Instead, he laughed. Not a fully genuine laugh this time, but still a bright one. “I’d like to think I’d use the time to be a better student. But I guess we all know how that would wind up, huh?”

Saeran couldn’t help but stare, his heart still racing. He had no idea how or why Yoosung was still smiling right now, even though he was clearly hurt. Saeran didn’t have time to puzzle it out before his instincts kicked in. He was always so careful with words, but in his state of panic, the words just spilled out.

“You wouldn’t just use it on games. I think you want to do more things than just playing games all the time. I think you would use the time on other things.”

As Yoosung stared silently, Saeran felt the unfamiliar sensation of his face turning absolutely flushed. What the hell was that? A reassuring answer would have been one thing, but Saeran wasn’t sure whether he’d even formed coherent sentences. Suddenly he missed the comfort of the messenger, his ability to read and reread and then delete most messages before ever hitting Send. 

“Thank you, Saeran.” Yoosung smiled. “It means a lot that you believe in me.” 

Believed in him. The words felt like a tidal wave.  


Mortified enough for a lifetime, Saeran put his hands in his lap and fixed his gaze there. He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to let his heart slow down.

Yoosung simply continued the conversation. “I was just thinking, sometimes you meet people who you’ve only talked to online, and they wind up being really different. You know? Like they have a special personality that they only use when they’re behind a keyboard. But I think you’re exactly like you were online, Saeran.”

Yoosung reached over and put a hand on Saeran’s arm, right below his shoulder. Saeran’s body jolted involuntarily, but Yoosung didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled his bright, incredible smile. “I’m glad you’re the same. You’re a really nice person!”

 

* * *

 

Saeran forced himself to talk to everyone that night. If he was going to do this, to be a part of the RFA, he needed to make a good impression. He caught up with Zen and Jaehee, shared a stilted chat with Jumin, and gave timid congratulations to his brother and future sister-in-law. By the end of the night, everyone had mingled in different groupings and shared plenty of conversations.

Saeran compared each and every one. While talking to the various members, he tried to listen to his gut, to test how it felt to talk to each of them. And by the end of the night he’d confirmed it.

Nothing else felt like talking to Yoosung.


	4. cooking with Yoosung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter inspired by the fact that Saeran's character bio lists his favorite foods as "candy and ice cream." This one's in first person, which made it fun to write! I want to feel free to vary up narrative styles between chapters as the mood dictates. It probably wouldn't work in a straightforward, chronological story, but for my purposes, I'm having fun with this "sampling platter" approach.

I asked him once what kind of food he likes. We were hanging out at his house, Saeyoung too, because I didn’t have classes. I remember that time really well because you’d think it’s a pretty easy question, right? But his face got kind of red, and he did that thing where he gets all fidgety and looks at his hands.

He look a long time to respond. “I guess I like... some fruits, like apples.... And we had barbecue recently that I enjoyed....”

Saeyoung, helpfully, decided to cut in. “Saeran has a sweet tooth.”

He tensed up. “I don’t!”

“Come on, there’s no reason to be shy about it. Saeran eats more junk food than I do.”

“Really?” Trying to imagine it made me grin. He didn’t seem like the type.

“I bet if he ever went grocery shopping, he’d come home with nothing but candy and pastries.” Saeyoung had his full-blown teasing voice on. “Oh, and apple juice. He likes apple juice.”

I was watching Saeran’s face the whole time. He seemed upset, but thankfully not in a really angry, ashamed way. Just a regular, embarrassed kind of upset. I noticed him mouthing something that looked like “stupid brother.”

“I can’t say I’m any different,” I said. “I try to eat balanced meals, but when I’m really stressed, all I want to do is eat chips.”

“See?” Saeyoung said. “Nothing to be shy about.” But I think his kindness just made Saeran embarrassed, too.

I continued. “Still, I hope you don’t eat sweets all the time. It’s important to eat balanced meals so that you don’t get sick. Okay?”

I gave him a friendly smile. I know that Saeran noticed it, but he went straight back to his fidgeting. “Don’t worry about me,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Ever since then, I keep thinking about things I’d like to cook for Saeran. Is that weird? I just think it would be fun, and if anyone deserves a nice home-cooked meal, it’s him.

The sweet tooth thing is an obstacle, but I think I could work around it. I wonder if he likes eggs? Omurice is my specialty, after all. I read somewhere that carrots are good for kids because they’re one of the sweetest vegetables. I could put peas and little diced carrots in the rice so he can get vitamins.

And the ketchup is really sweet, too! I think if I drew a smiley face with ketchup, he’d get embarrassed. But it wouldn’t feel right to put a big blob or rows of ketchup on my pretty omurice.... I won’t do it. He’ll have to deal with being embarrassed.

And he said that he likes barbecue.... It’s too bad that I’m just a poor college student, because I think that trying to make barbecue could be fun. He seems like he needs the protein. Oh, and maybe we could have everyone over for a big meal! If we cooked it together, it could be like a gift to the whole RFA. A shared “thank you,” from Yoosung and Saeran, your cutest members. Heehee.

Even though I can’t afford it, I would love to go all out and just make him a really nice meal, like the kind my mom would make on holidays. I’d figure out all the vegetables he’s okay with eating and make sure that he got a little of every food group. Saeyoung said that Saeran was really sickly growing up, so he should be eating better anyway, right? I really want him to be healthy. If another RFA member fell ill, I’d be so upset. Oh, but at the end we’d have a nice dessert with his favorite sweets.

Maybe it _is_ weird that I think about all this so much. But I care a lot about Saeran. I care about all of our members, of course. Everyone is always looking out for me, offering me help, giving me advice. With Saeran, though, I feel like there’s finally someone who can depend on _me_. It’s weird, but I think looking out for him makes me feel a little stronger! A little more… manly? Hehe.

… I’ll have to cook for him sometime soon. Maybe just the omurice to start. I’m looking forward to it, watching his face as he takes the first bite.


	5. knitting with Saeran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really angsty chapter in the works, but then I had a rough night and wanted to work on something more lighthearted. I think this one is pretty self-indulgent, but it pairs well with the previous chapter.
> 
> Drama is coming next, promise!

My therapist suggested that I find something to do with my hands. It was only our third meeting, but she’d already picked up on my fidgeting habit. I think from the outside, it’s hard not to notice. I’m always pulling at my fingers, squeezing my palms, digging under my fingernails. I don’t really think about it. But to other people, it’s obvious.

She said that people develop habits like that to deal with anxiety or sensory overload. She said that it’s a way of grounding yourself, by giving you a sensation to focus on while you deal with stressful occurrences. (The stressful occurrences in this case, I assume, being every waking moment of my life. I didn’t say that.) She assured me that it wasn’t a negative way to cope.

“If it helps you feel even a little bit at ease, then I’m all for it,” she said. “But some people find it useful to carry an object to fidget with. That could be a stress ball, a Rubik's Cube, a bracelet. It can be comforting to some, and in social situations, they can help you blend in more.”

She gave me the URL for this website where they sell fidget toys for adults, which I visited that evening. Most of it seemed pretty childish, frankly.

Yoosung rolled over from the other end of my bed, momentarily abandoning his laptop, and lied out next to me. He put a hand on my lower back. “What’re you looking at, sweetie?”

“That website my therapist told me about.” I showed him my phone and let him scroll through the page.

“Ooh, these are cool! I like the necklace with the cat head.”

“You’re supposed to chew on them,” I told him, taking my phone back. “I thought that these things were supposed to be discreet. What’s the point if you’re going to look like a teething child?”

Yoosung laughed even though it wasn’t really a joke. “I chew on the drawstring of my hoodie sometimes, so I think I get it. Do you think you’ll buy anything?”

I turned off the phone and rested my head on my pillow. “Mmm. No. I guess I don’t really see the point in buying a toy, if the fidgeting all accomplishes the same thing anyway.”

“It could be nice to find something to do with your hands, though,” Yoosung said. He lied face-to-face with me, eyes closed, keeping his hand on my back and rubbing in small circles. “Hmm.” After a few seconds, his eyes opened. “Oh! What if you tried knitting!”

“Knitting?”

“Yeah! It’s something to do with your hands, but it’s productive too, right? It’s not just a toy to carry around. You get to make something at the same time.”

He seemed so excited, but I kind of shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’d probably look dumb.”

“I don’t think so,” Yoosung said. “I think it would be cute. I actually think that knitting kind of suits you.”  
  


* * *

  
Yoosung helped me shop for needles and yarn a few days later. I let him pick out my colors, and in return, he agreed to stand in line at the register and purchase the supplies for me.

I found a guide online and slowly taught myself the basics. It actually wasn’t as difficult as I expected it to be. For beginners at least, it was mostly just repetitive motions and paying attention to consistency.

Saeyoung teased me about looking like a granny, but his tone changed after the first couple of days. I guess he’d sufficiently embarrassed me. After that it was all:

“Ooh, is that the sweater you’re knitting me?”

“Brother, make me a cute hat with kitty ears!”

“No, no, use this color! It matches my beautiful eyes.”

“I’m not making you anything, dummy!” He was hanging over the back of the couch, watching over my shoulder, so I pushed his face away. “If you wanted something so bad, you shouldn’t have teased me before.”

“So cruel!” he whined. “I would give you the shirt off my back, and you won’t even make me a hat with cat ears.” Then he changed characters. “So if it’s not for me, then what are you making? Hmm?”

At first, nothing. I was just practicing, trying to get my stitches nice and even, so that my first real project would turn out well. But I did have an idea in mind. I wanted to say thank you.

* * *

  
“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Yoosung, I never told you to close your eyes.”

“But you said it’s a surprise! So I have to keep my eyes closed.”

“I didn’t say it was a surprise, I said it was a gift. And it’s not anything special, so don’t make a big deal. Just—here.” I moved his hands so that his palms were facing up and placed my present in them. “There. Surprise.”

Yoosung opened his eyes, and it took him about three seconds to start crying. I wasn’t expecting it at all. “Oh, Saeran…!” He held my scarf up against his face, rubbing his cheek into it. “You made this for me?”

I nodded. I could feel my face getting hot and felt relieved that I decided to do this in the privacy of my bedroom. “It’s only a scarf. And it’s a simple pattern, too, so-”

“I don’t care!” Yoosung said. “You made a scarf for me. It’s beautiful, Saeran. It’s perfect.” He put his arms around me and held on tight.

“Here,” I said, breaking away after a few seconds. I took the scarf back and unfolded it, then wrapped it around his neck. I had been right. The green color was really perfect beside his blond hair and violet eyes. I think I got goosebumps, a little bit. Just at the thought that something I made could make Yoosung more beautiful than he was already.

He put his hands on my face and guided me toward him for a kiss, soft and tender. He still had tears falling out of his eyes when he broke away. “I’m so happy, Saeran. I’m so happy.”

Yoosung, is this all I can give you? These trinkets, gifts that only amount to money and time? When you’ve given me more than I can express. Saeyoung gave me a second chance, a new life. But it’s through you that I could find meaning within it. I feel like I’ve been following right behind you, and you’ve adjusted your pace to me. You hold my hand, help me surmount obstacles, and when I can’t move forward, you stay behind with me.

You told me once that you think it’s okay for one person to give more in a relationship, if they have more to give. I wish that I could think like you do. I want to be your equal and give exactly what you deserve.

Seeing the way you cried that night.... It makes me want to work harder. I’m working for both of us now, and for the sake of our life together.


	6. spiteful intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a general content warning, there are some mentions of violence throughout this chapter, including potential implications of self harm. Also a lot of heavy mental unwellness. On a lighter note, the title of this chapter is another of Montreal song.

**Saeran:** ys

**Yoosung★:** Saeran!

**Yoosung★:** Good morning, my sunshine~

**Yoosung★:** Did you eat breakfast yet?

**Saeran:** i fucked up

**Yoosung★:** ??

**Saeran:** dont call me anymore

**Yoosung★:** Saeran what’s wrong?

**Yoosung★:** What do you need from me?

**Yoosung★:** Is your brother still gone? Should I call him?

**Yoosung★:** Saeran please answer my calls please

**Yoosung★:** I’m coming over

**Saeran:** No

**Yoosung★:** Saeran just talk to me please

**Saeran:** I’m sorry

**Saeran:** Im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry  


 

* * *

Yoosung biked through four red lights to get there. Traffic was curiously thin for a Sunday morning, and he didn’t pass a single cop or even a dazed driver hugging the bike lane. If there was a god, that god was definitely looking out for him.

He locked up his bike against a random fence post as Saeyoung’s security gate activated. Before it could spout some string of words for Yoosung to translate into Arabic, he snatched the mic and spoke the special passphrase Saeyoung had given him before leaving on his weekend trip.

“I’m trusting you to keep track of him,” Saeyoung had said in one of his rare moments of complete seriousness, his voice low and sincere. “I know he’s a grown adult, but this is his first weekend home alone, and I’m not sure what will happen. If he seems depressed, come over. If he stops answering your calls, come over. Don’t trust that he’ll tell you if something’s going wrong. Did you write down the phrase I gave you? It’s unlikely that you’ll need it, but....”

Yoosung was inside within seconds and racing down the hall toward Saeran’s bedroom. From outside of the door, he could hear open sobs, loud and quivering, like a child with an adult’s voice. Taking in a breath, to pace himself more than anything, Yoosung made sure to knock and wait a moment before letting himself in.

“Saeran…?”

The sight of the room made Yoosung jolt. 

His room—so empty, so impersonal—was mostly untouched, except that his desk chair had been knocked onto the floor, an isolated act of frustration, unceremonious, almost unsettling in the context of his room’s neat shelves and tidy surfaces. And the wall beside his bed, normally clean and white, had been hacked at randomly, leaving deep cuts and flaked paint and exposed wood in a scattered pattern, like a child’s drawing. And the culprit, a chef’s knife in his hands, dusted with white flecks of paint. And Saeran, just sitting on the bed in a tanktop and jeans, face buried in his knees, bare arms curled around his legs, the knife in his hand.

"Sweetheart," Yoosung said through a shivering exhale, slowly approaching the bed.

"Don't." The volume of Saeran's voice made him jump. Saeran had stopped crying the moment Yoosung entered the room, but his voice was intermittently broken by sharp hiccups of breath. "Don't  _ hic  _ c-  _ hic  _ come near me. I'll  _ hic  _ h-hurt you."

But the threat was weak, and the way he limply lifted the knife, tip drooping toward the floor, wasn't convincing, either. Yoosung approached him casually, unhinged Saeran's fingers from the hilt of the knife, and tossed it onto the floor. He lifted Saeran's arms by the wrist, checking every inch of them for even the tiniest scratch. But they were only pale skin, and black ink, and old, white scars as usual.

Saeran pulled his arms away and held them at his chest.

"Saeran," Yoosung said, "what's going on?"

"D-don't condescend to me. I know what this  _ hic  _ looks like."

Yoosung shook his head. "What what looks like? I don't-"

"I used to hurt people so easily," he said. He was curled up again around his knees, gently bouncing in place as his feet tapped involuntarily. He was looking at the bed, the wall, but not Yoosung. "I must look so pathetic to you. But I'll snap again. I'll hurt you, you know.

Although he didn't reach out to touch Saeran, Yoosung sat close. "You don't look pathetic to me. I'm just confused, Saeran. What's going on?"

"I'll hurt you." Saeran was pulling at a fistful of his hair. "That's who I am. And eventually I'll snap and I'll kill someone, too."

"Of course you won't," Yoosung said softly. "You couldn't kill someone, Saeran. You're a good person."

Saeran looked up with only his eyes from his hunched, shivering position on the bed. He met Yoosung's gaze directly. And Yoosung could see the layers of emotion in his teary expression, the horror, the resentment, the childlike guilt. The way he didn't break eye contact or even blink, Yoosung know that this look had a meaning, one that couldn't be verbalized. And that's when he put it together.

"Oh."

Saeran put his face in his knees. He raised one hand and slapped it once against the wall, open palmed, more for the pain than anything.

Yoosung felt like he'd swallowed a typhoon, his head dizzy and spiraling. Though he was far from a child, some situations were still too big for him. This was the kind of news where he’d normally step backward, let someone else take over, listen to the correct statements come from someone else’s mouth. But no one else was around, and anyway, this was  _ his  _ boyfriend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yoosung said.

Saeran shuddered. “What’s there to talk about.”

“I don’t know. Everything? Saeran, what do you need from me right now?”

Saeran looked up with an incredulous expression, and then turned away with one of exhaustion. “I belong in jail. Or dead.”

“No,” Yoosung said flatly. Words felt thick and heavy to both of them. “I still don’t believe that.”

“You just said that I was a good person because I couldn’t kill anyone.”

Well, that was true. Yoosung shook his head. “Let me say it differently, then. Okay? It’s more that....” He paused for a long time, and then sighed. “I’ve never been a good judge of people, you know? With all the time I spent around Rika, I never knew how troubled she was. I still don’t know why she disappeared or what happened, and looking back at when I was young, I can’t find any clues.”

Yoosung paused, noticed that Saeran was staring at the wall as though listening intently, and continued. “I guess I only saw what I wanted to see. I never knew that Saeyoung was hurting so much inside, before he brought you back. I still don’t know what kind of person V truly was.”

Saeran’s shaking had calmed down, and Yoosung put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Saeran didn’t flinch, so he left it there. “A lot of people have been dishonest with me, but you just told me something so big and scary, and.... I really appreciate it, you know that? Sorry, I’m losing track of what I’m trying to say. Maybe if I knew more about V or Rika, I would have felt differently about them. But I know so much about you. Bad things and good things, too. And I know you haven’t always been, um, under your own control, either. None of it changes how much I love you, sweetie. I feel your kindness in everything you do.”

Saeran sat up a little more. He let Yoosung wrap his arms around his waist and lean into his shoulder. Saeran held onto Yoosung’s back. “I still know that I’m going to hurt you,” he said. “Even just in small ways, like making you find me with a knife in my bed.”

“That’s okay,” Yoosung said.

“Part of me likes to hurt people. I feel these impulses every day, to hurt someone. Assert my authority.”

“That’s okay, too. I know you're trying.”

Saeran clenched Yoosung’s shirt. “There’s still one more big thing I haven’t told you yet.”

Yoosung didn’t move. “Yeah? What is it?” 

“It’s only partially about me.”

“Oh. Can you tell me now, or do you think you should wait?”

“I don’t think this is the right time,” Saeran said. “But, uhm. I’m sorry in advance. I feel like I have to tell you because of our relationship, but it’s really....”

Yoosung cut in. “If it’s for our relationship, then it’s worth it.”

“It will really, really hurt you,” Saeran said, feeling tears build in his eyes.

“That’s okay.” Yoosung hoped he was hiding the shiver in his throat, the earnest fear in his voice. He meant every word, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. “I’m not afraid of feeling pain. Especially not if it’s for you.”  


 

* * *

In an hour, they were on the couch watching a movie, silent and cuddling and trying to breathe normally again. Yoosung, emotionally elastic as ever, seemed to be focused intently on the TV screen. Saeran, at his side, was still thinking.

He knew that he was a time bomb. The longer he waited to tell Yoosung the truth, the more deceitful he would feel finally voicing it. And he knew, furthermore, that the pain Yoosung experienced would be his fault. Saeyoung and the others were perfectly content to keep Yoosung in the dark. But their relationship complicated things.  


Saeran couldn’t last much longer without letting Yoosung know who put the tattoos on his skin, the drugs in his veins, the scars in his mind.

It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is that like three days later Yoosung is walking to class and thinks to himself "'I'm not afraid of feeling pain....' Hmmm, I said something really cool, didn't I~~" He rides that high all day.


	7. when they knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to making a Mystic Messenger sideblog on Tumblr. The URL is neighborhoodtom, and you can feel free to send me asks about this story if you're curious about my thoughts or headcanons or anything. Ohh you can also see my fanart! 
> 
> Anyway, the two stories in this chapter are unrelated in terms of narrative, but they share a common theme. (See: chapter title.)

 

**Yoosung**

* * *

 Biology was really hard.

Yoosung was trying his best to study, sprawled out in bed in front of his open textbook, a notepad, half a dozen writing instruments, and on the nightstand, a tall cup of coffee. He’d spent the last hour copying vocabulary terms and basic concepts from the textbook into his notepad, even color coding them with highlighters. Now, all he had to do was memorize them.

But it was so hard!!

He put a scrap of paper in his textbook and closed it, stacking the notepad on top. Maybe what he needed was a break. If he came back to the work relaxed and refreshed, he was sure to absorb everything no problem.

Of course, he couldn’t play LOLOL. He promised himself that he wouldn’t, and Saeyoung even offered to take him to the movies if he didn’t log on all night. (Was this kindness, or a roundabout way of tormenting him? Come to think of it, Saeyoung never specified which movie....) But anyway, that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some other way to distract himself.

Yoosung picked up his cell phone scrolled through his contacts. Who could take his mind off of things? Maybe someone funny, or someone with good advice, or....

His thumb froze on one of the names. Yoosung felt his chest tighten up a bit. Without thinking about it, he pressed Call.

Three rings, and an answer on the fourth. “Hello?”

“Hi, Saeran! Are you busy right now?”

There was a bit of a shuffling sound on the other end of the line. “No, I’m not busy.”

“Really? What were you doing?” Yoosung curled up on his side, keeping the phone against his ear.

“There’s a book I was reading,” Saeran said, “but it wasn’t very interesting. Um, did you need something?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to chat. I’m studying for this test, but I really needed a break, and you’re the first person I thought of to call.”

“Oh.” Saeran paused for a moment. “So you’re studying? How surprising.”

Yoosung laughed softly. For some reason, it never felt bad when Saeran teased him. He couldn’t quite decipher why, but the observations others made with condescension felt lighthearted coming from Saeran, the words both oddly playful and dripping with nervousness.

“I always study when I know I have a test!” Yoosung said. “I don’t usually take it this seriously, but my professor threatened me with classes during vacation. Gahh.... I really need to pass this one. Break is supposed to be a break!”

“Mm,” Saeran responded. “I guess you want beauty sleep.”

Yoosung laughed again. “I know you’re kidding, but it’s kind of true. I start getting bags under my eyes toward the end of the term.”

“I see.”

There was a long silence. Yoosung, knowing that Saeran wasn’t the best at making conversation, closed his eyes for a moment to observe the silence. In his peaceful state, Yoosung became aware of the smile stuck on his lips and the static feeling blossoming in the pit of his stomach. He rolled onto his back and looked toward the ceiling.

“Hey Saeran?”

“What?”

Yoosung put a hand on his stomach and clutched at the fabric of his shirt. “I hope it’s not weird to say so, but I feel really comfortable talking to you like this. I mean, you’re just really easy to talk to, compared to everyone else.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I get what you mean.”

Yoosung closed his eyes again. Saeran’s voice, when it was low like this, was really soothing. Involuntarily, Yoosung’s breathing became deep and slow, and he could feel the static in his stomach getting fuller, rounder. His whole body felt warm, especially his cheeks, almost uncomfortably hot.

He was standing at the edge of a line, one that could be blurred with a single touch. It wasn’t a line he’d dared to cross with many people, and not one he’d ever considered crossing with another guy. But in this serene, exciting moment, he felt he could stroll past it without a thought.

“You know,” Yoosung finally said, “I bet if you read my study guide to me, I’d remember every word.”

“Yeah?” Saeran said. Yoosung thought, maybe, he’d picked up on a hint of a stutter at the start of the word.

“Mm-hm. I’d walk into class tomorrow and get the test, and I’d write down every single answer, no problem. Everyone would be so surprised when I walked up so confidently to the front of the class. I’d hand the professor my test, and he wouldn’t even believe it.” Yoosung laughed softly, his eyes still closed. “Ahh, but you’d get bored if you had to help me study.”

A long pause. “I- I guess so.” Definitely the stutter that time. “I don’t have much experience with school. Maybe I would learn something.”

“Ohh, is there any subject you’re curious about? If you want to learn, maybe we could really study together sometime.” The static was swelling against the lining of his stomach. Yoosung knew he was getting greedy.

“Um. Well, there are things I’m well versed in. But I’ve started reading more books, just recently. Uh, mostly comics, but some novels, too. I guess I’m curious about what you read in college.”

“Nothing as fun as comic books,” Yoosung said. “I like your reading habits better, Saeran.”

Saeran laughed, which for him was always a dry chuckle. “Let’s trade sometime.”

“Wouldn't that be fun, though?” Yoosung said. “I get your comics, and you get....” He finally opened his eyes, getting up on one elbow to read off of his textbook in a mockingly serious voice. “Evolutionary Biology, third edition.”

“I heard the third edition is where it gets really shocking.”

Yoosung laughed, but now that his eyes were open, he could no longer ignore how long the conversation had gone on. “Ahh, I should get back to studying soon.”

“Okay,” Saeran said. “Good luck with your test.”

“Thanks!” Yoosung said. “I think with your encouragement, I can get the best grade in class.”

There was another long pause. “I bet you could do that anyway.” And then slight shuffling on the other line. “Anyway, talk to you later.”

“Bye, Saeran.”

“Bye.”

Yoosung put down the phone, his stomach churning. He was absorbing the full gravity of what he’d done. He blurred a line. He crossed outside the boundary of reasonable friendliness, and not just with another RFA member, but with _Saeyoung’s brother_.

And he had to be honest with himself, although it could have been wishful thinking. He couldn’t be sure at all. But he got the sense that some of that boundary-crossing had been, in some tiny way, actually reciprocated.

There was no way he could focus on Biology now.

 

 

  
**Saeran**

* * *

From the backseat of Saeyoung’s car, Saeran took in the sight of the university campus. It was really pretty, first of all. Even during Fall, when trees everywhere were shedding orange and brown leaves, there wasn’t a detail out of place in the finely landscaped lawns and flowerbeds. The campus looked inviting and perpetually ready for a photo op. And the buildings, tall and close together, seemed to suggest intellectualism just through their ornate designs.

Saeran felt a small sense of longing, realizing he’d missed out on college, the life opportunity that so many consider pivotal in their development. Not that he’d ever expected to go. Still, what would he have been like in college? The students who passed by the car, whether they travelled in groups or individually, all seemed serious. Carrying bags and books, they walked quickly to their destinations, never stopping to chat or observe their surroundings. They seemed so put together.

“Oh look,” the front seat passenger, Saeyoung’s fiancee, pointed out, “here he comes.”

And then there was Yoosung. Same hoodie as always. Backpack over one shoulder, half open. Sprinting across the lawn to their car.

Saeran reached over to unlock the door.

“Sorry I’m late!” Yoosung said, out of breath, climbing into the car. “My professor, uh, wanted to talk to me. Oh, Saeran! You made it!”

Saeran nodded. “Of course he did,” Saeyoung said. “He’s a member of the RFA, too, so he belongs at the meeting.”

“I know that. I’m just excited because we don’t get to talk to Saeran very much.” He smiled at his backseat companion. “Log into the messenger more, okay?”

“S-sure,” Saeran said, but it was an empty assurance. Talking to everyone still made him way too nervous.

Yoosung frowned toward the front seat. “Hey, Saeyoung! Did you have to pick me up in the leopard print car? All of my classmates were staring. It was so embarrassing.”

“Don’t insult my baby. She can’t help it that she’s a fierce, untamed beast.”

Yoosung pouted, but he let it go, knowing there was no arguing with Saeyoung over cars. He looked over at Saeran, who was staring out the side window, chin on his hand. He seemed transfixed. As a separate conversation started up in the front seats, Yoosung lowered his voice. “Hey, Saeran.”

Saeran looked over, sitting up lazily. “Hm?”

Yoosung reached into his hoodie pocket. “I had to see the Registrar today, so I took something from her candy bowl.” He pulled out a bright red lollipop.

Saeran didn’t move or say anything, but he could feel the heat creeping up into his face.

“I got it for you! You like sweets, right?”

His throat feeling tight with mixed feelings of embarrassment, annoyance, and flattery, Saeran just nodded. He was looking at the lollipop as though he’d never seen one in his life.

Yoosung stifled a laugh and gestured toward him with the gift. “Go on, take it!”

Saeran reached over to take the white stem between his fingers. Grabbing the treat, he put his hands in his lap and hunched over in his seat. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“You’re welcome.” He could hear the smile in Yoosung’s voice.

Looking at the candy, Saeran waited for the heat in his face to disappear. What a childish gesture. What a sweet, thoughtful, childish gesture. He had to swallow the defensively sarcastic comment on his tongue. He considered putting the candy in his pocket and saving it for later. But he didn’t want to offend Yoosung, childish or not, and he definitely didn’t even want the evidence of this interaction to exist an hour from now. Plus, he really did love candy. Saeran pulled the plastic wrapper off of the treat and put it in his mouth.

The taste of cherry syrup on his tongue, Saeran glanced over his shoulder. Now Yoosung was staring out the window, watching cars and buildings pass by in streaks of color. Saeran considered saying something, but he didn’t know how to start a conversation. He just wanted Yoosung’s attention again. His stomach turned heavy with the weight of this feeling. Yoosung’s hand was placed at his side, his fingers tapping in a vaguely rhythmic pattern.

Saeran’s brain stalled for a second, watching Yoosung’s hand, so close within reach. And then the next thought caught up to him. He wanted to feel that hand in his own, feel Yoosung’s fingers squeeze around his, feel the warmth and security of that grasp.

Oh.

He wanted to hold hands with Yoosung. A series of realizations hit, each one an arrow to his gut.  He wanted to walk into this meeting with Yoosung, sit down beside Yoosung, be there _together_ with Yoosung. The thoughts escalated so quickly. He wanted to be alone with Yoosung and tell him everything on his mind, every thought big and small. He wanted to go home with Yoosung. He wanted Yoosung to take him in his arms, pet his hair, whisper sweet words into his ear. He wanted to fall asleep with Yoosung, and in the morning, he wanted to wake up to breakfast that Yoosung made.

His hands were fidgeting forcefully, pulling at his own fingers, twisting them in his grasp. He turned to look out the window, trying to calm himself with distractions. But the truth he’d been repressing was out now, and there was no returning it. His mind was racing with things he wanted to do with Yoosung, people he wanted to be for Yoosung.

Of course, he couldn’t have any of it. Even if his feelings could be reciprocated, by some twisted act of God, he could never burden another person so intimately with his sick, broken mind. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine it, the way he used to imagine the sky.

It hurts, after a while, to think so deeply of something you can’t have. Something so close but so unattainable. But for a while, the thoughts are nothing but warm, swirling bliss. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to indulge himself in that bliss, if just for a while.


	8. family visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that this chapter is by far the longest one I've written, but I'm really happy with the whole thing. I hope everyone likes it!
> 
> Content warning for vague sexual references. Nothing explicit at all though.

**Yoosung★:** Saeyoung...

**Yoosung★:** Can I ask you a serious question?

**Saeyoung:** Go ahead.

**Yoosung★:** Ummm.

**Yoosung★:** At what point in a relationship do you think you can introduce someone...

**Yoosung★:** to your mom...?

**Saeyoung:** Third base.

**Yoosung★:** -_-

**Yoosung★:** I don’t know why I asked you.

**Saeyoung:** Seems inappropriate to get the mom involved, though....

**Yoosung★:** I’m blocking your number.

**Saeyoung:** lololol waaaait.

**Saeyoung:** Jeez.

**Saeyoung:** Saeran’s sass rubbed off on you.

**Yoosung★:** Are you going to help me or not! T_T

**Saeyoung:** Yoosung,

**Saeyoung:** of course Saeran wants to meet your mom.

**Saeyoung:** Just make sure you warn him well in advance.

**Yoosung★:** Wait, are you sure?

**Yoosung★:** She’s coming to visit, but I thought it might be too soon.

**Yoosung★:** And that maybe it’s... a sensitive area?

**Saeyoung:** Nah. He’ll be happy.

**Saeyoung:** Btw, tell Mama Yoosung I said hi~

**Yoosung★:** Wow! Okay!

**Yoosung★:** I’m suddenly really nervous!;;;;

**Saeyoung:** lolol

**Saeyoung:** You two are cute.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?”

“I’m sure!” Yoosung sounded frantic and out of breath as he pushed his broom beneath the coffee table to sweep the floor underneath. Saeran had been there for two hours, and Yoosung hadn’t stopped moving once. “Just sweeping and dishes left, sweetie. Just that and then I think I’m done.”

“I can do the dishes.”

“Nooo no no. You might get dish water on your nice sweater. My favorite one! Stay on the couch and stay clean, please?”

Saeran put his chin in his hand. “If you say so.”

Yoosung sped around the living room, sweeping in every corner. “The last time she was here, my apartment was a mess, and I never heard the end of it. I really don’t want her to spend her whole visit cleaning again. And I don’t want her to think I made you clean, either.” His voice lowered to a mumble as he grabbed the dustpan. “Clean apartment, clean Saeran....”

Ironically, Yoosung himself looked like a mess, his sleeves rolled up and his hair falling in his face. Saeran had rarely seen him clean before, so this was beyond shocking. He also couldn't believe that Yoosung was the nervous one in this situation.

Yoosung, who had bent over to sweep a pile of dirt, shot up suddenly. “Did I clean the tub?”

“An hour ago,” Saeran said, slightly annoyed.

Yoosung relaxed visibly. “What would I do without you?” He put down the broom momentarily to approach Saeran, take his head in his hands, and kiss him sweetly on the forehead. Then he put his chin on Saeran’s head, resting his hands on his shoulders. “I just don’t want any distractions,” Yoosung said in a low voice. “I want this visit to be about me and you and her. Not my messy apartment, not my grades, not my gaming addiction. I just want her to see how wonderful you are and how much I’ve changed because of you.”

Saeran nuzzled his face into Yoosung’s chest, putting his hands on his boyfriend’s hips. “I understand.” He smiled. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

Their intimate moment was interrupted by three knocks on the door. Yoosung was running without a moment’s hesitation. He grabbed the dustpan and broom, emptied his pile of dirt into the kitchen trash can, put the broom in the corner, and ran to the door. Pausing for a moment to fix his sleeves, he looked once at Saeran, who gave him a small and reassuring smile. Yoosung took a breath and opened the door.

“Hi Mom! I missed you!”

Saeran couldn’t help but feel good, watching the happy family reunion. Yoosung’s mom was much shorter than him, and somewhat stout. He knew she was just a housewife, but she looked incredibly put-together, her clothing slightly formal and her brown hair up in a simple but perfect bun. In spite of that, she seemed warm and friendly. Saeran could see where Yoosung got his smile.

Yoosung’s mother broke out of a hug with her son and immediately looked to the couch. Saeran stood up, his arms stiff and uncomfortable at his sides. It was moments like these when he remembered that he had no idea how to interact with other people.

But Yoosung’s mom seemed content to take the lead. “You must be Saeran. It’s so nice to meet you!” She approached him with her arms extended, and Saeran awkwardly accepted her hug. Normally close physical contact with anyone other than Yoosung or Saeyoung made him panic, but this felt relatively okay. Maybe because she looked so much like her son.

“Mom, why did you pack so much?” Yoosung said, carrying her oversized suitcase through the door. “You’re only staying a couple of nights.”

Mrs. Kim turned to her son. “Did you forget? I brought something for _you_.”

Yoosung’s face lit up suddenly, and he dropped to the floor to unzip the suitcase. Saeran was thinking bemusedly that it was cute how Yoosung transformed into a kid around his mom. But the next thing that happened was too much.

“Mr. Whale…!” Yoosung reached into the suitcase and pulled out a large stuffed Orca, probably almost three feet long. He embraced the toy, and Saeran could swear he saw tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Mom! I missed him so much.”

Noticing the confused expression on Saeran’s face, Mrs. Kim turned to explain. “He’s had that toy since he was a little kid, but before college, he absolutely insisted that he couldn’t take it with him. He went on and on about how he was grown up now, and he had to become a man who didn’t sleep with toys....”

Yoosung, cross-legged on the floor and cuddling his stuffed whale, turned his nose up. “I _am_ a man now. And I’m man enough to know that _anyone_ can sleep with a stuffed animal.”

All of Saeran’s instincts told him to be embarrassed, but he had to smile. Was it possible that Yoosung became even more Yoosung in the presence of his family?

Mrs. Kim smiled, too. “Yoosung, it’s so clean in here! Much better than the last time I visited.”

Saeran half-expected him to play it cool, but Yoosung was beaming proudly. “Thanks, Mom! Oh, and I even made dinner for us. Sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”

Yoosung didn’t own a real dining table, so the three of them gathered around his coffee table to eat. Yoosung and Mrs. Kim sat off to either side, while Saeran somehow wound up uncomfortably seated in the middle. After they’d sufficiently praised Yoosung, who turned red at compliments on his cooking, Mrs. Kim turned her attention to his partner.

“So Saeran,” she began, “what are you majoring in?”

His fork scraped loudly against the ceramic plate. Saeran, instantly stiff and nervous, turned toward Yoosung while trying to formulate an answer.

“No, Mom, he doesn’t go to school with me,” Yoosung said through a mouthful of food. Saeran relaxed.

“Oh. Well what do you do for a living?”

This time his panic went into overdrive. He stared at his plate, completely strapped for a response.

“He helps out with his twin’s business,” Yoosung said, clearly having thought this through. “He also keeps their house clean and stuff.”

Saeran gave his boyfriend a relieved look, as if to say “thank you.” Neither of Yoosung’s answers were even a lie.

“Oh, a family business,” Mrs. Kim said, “how nice! What do you and your twin do?”

This time, Saeran worked up the nerve to respond, his voice barely above a mumble. “H-he makes toys. Robotic ones, with um, pretty advanced A.I., actually. I, uh, help him debug the programs.” It was a nicer way of saying “I rip into his flawed code and convince him not to mount torches inside the toys’ mouths when he gets bored.”

“That sounds so advanced,” Mrs. Kim said.

Yoosung nodded. “They’re basically geniuses,” he confirmed. Saeran smiled, melting a little inside.

Mrs. Kim leaned toward Saeran a little conspiratorially, although still speaking loud enough for Yoosung to hear. “I can tell he thinks so highly of you,” she said. “A week ago, I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone. But ever since he told me I’d be meeting you, he’s gone on and on about you in every phone call.”

Saeran wondered what Yoosung could possibly have been saying, if he didn’t even mention his “job.” But he felt his heart fluttering regardless, and used this moment of confidence to answer. “I really… really like him, too.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of their meal went smoothly, most of the conversation revolving around Yoosung’s school, his dad’s career, and his sister’s job search. Afterwards they headed to the kitchen, where Yoosung and his mother washed dishes as Saeran put their leftover rice in the fridge. Saeran was exhausted. Between the anxiety and the frantic efforts at normal socializing, the meal really wore on his energy. As Yoosung chatted openly with his mom over the sink, Saeran zoned out of the conversation until a certain whispered name caught his attention.

“Have you heard anything from Rika?”

Saeran froze in front of the fridge, holding open the door with one hand and clutching a container of rice in the other

“No, mom,” Yoosung said, his voice low. “Um, they’re supposed to be able to send letters home once a year, so I’m hoping we’ll hear from her soon.”

She sighed. “I hope she writes. Everyone’s worried sick, and it’s so hard to explain to the rest of the family when...."

“When we don’t know what happened,” Yoosung said. “Right.”

Hearing them talk about her, Saeran didn’t feel nervous or guilty or upset. He just felt numb. His chest was so heavy, he thought it would sink into his gut. It’s like his brain was trying to formulate an emotional response, some semblance of betrayal or anxiety. He was getting flashes of her face, like heated sparks flying up from kindling. But nothing caught on fire.

“Saeran.”

He looked up at the sound of Yoosung’s voice. “Huh?”

Yoosung was drying his hands off on a towel, the dishes finished. “Are you okay? Why are you holding the fridge open?”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. I was trying to find a space.” Saeran dropped the container of rice on a shelf and closed the refrigerator door.

Yoosung smiled and squeezed his arm, assuming it was residual nerves. “I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Saeran watched as his boyfriend exited the kitchen, leaving him behind with a woman he barely knew and desperately needed to impress. Leaning his back against the fridge, Saeran looked at his socks and hoped that time would pass quickly.

She spoke up right away. “So, um, Yoosung told me a little bit over the phone about your family situation.”

Saeran stared at her. “He did?”

“Oh, just a little bit,” she said. “No real specifics.”

“Oh.” He felt his face turn red, regardless.

Mrs. Kim walked closer to him. “I only bring it up because I wanted you to know that.... Well, I know that you and Yoosung haven’t even been together for a year, but I really mean this.” She folded her hands together at her chest. Saeran could pick up on the nervousness in her voice, and it actually calmed him down. “As long as you’re together, you’ll always have a family with us. Okay?”

Saeran’s throat tightened, his heart racing. He nodded slightly, and then answered. “Thank you.”

Yoosung’s mom reached out for another hug, and this time Saeran reciprocated more comfortably. He wasn’t going to cry, but he felt the rare sensation of tears pricking his eyes for reasons other than sadness.

In honesty, Saeran didn’t think he wanted another family. It was a nice thought, but Saeyoung and the rest of the RFA had been more than enough for him these past months. It was the fact that she even offered. The fact that someone with no obligation to him had extended such a welcoming and generous gesture. He knew that gestures like these existed, but could he really be the receiving party? Could people be this kind even to him?

He still had regular thoughts like these. But it felt that, over time, he had been increasingly comfortable thinking of himself as just another person. A regular person, who deserved things just like anyone else. There was something both scary and empowering about that.

Yoosung returned shortly after they ended their hug, still all smiles to see his mom and his boyfriend in the same room.

“So, Mom, I got out the stuff to make your bed on the couch. Assuming that you still want the couch, and not my bed...?”

“Oh, I couldn’t take your bed away from you, dear,” she said. “I’m happy with the couch.”

Yoosung visibly relaxed. He was nice enough to offer, but not nice enough to hope she’d accept. Especially with Saeran spending the night....

As though reading the thoughts on his face, she continued. “Although I have to say, I’m certainly not comfortable with the two of you sleeping in the same bed.”

Yoosung’s face sank. “Whaaat? Mom, no....”

She crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, but as long as I’m here, you two will have to behave like _proper_ unmarried adults.” Though playing up the morality a bit, the boys could tell she was serious.

“Mom... no.... I’m twenty one now! I can make my own decisions....”

Saeran knew that this conversation directly affected him, but he still had to stifle a laugh.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Mrs. Kim’s stubbornness won out. Their sleeping arrangements resulted with Saeran taking the bed, Yoosung having recognized that he needed the space and privacy to decompress after a stressful evening. Meanwhile, Mrs. Kim took the couch while Yoosung slept on a mat on the living room floor.

Alone in Yoosung’s bedroom, Saeran couldn’t sleep. Though exhausted, his head was still buzzing from the night of uncomfortable interaction. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of impression he made with his mumbled answers and nervous glances at Yoosung. She didn’t seem to hate him, but that didn’t mean he’d impressed her, either. He still had another day to make a better impression, but even thinking about it made him feel tired.

Saeran could hear the doorknob click from across the room and the door slowly open. He watched Yoosung enter in a t-shirt and boxers, carrying Mr. Whale at his side. Saeran smiled.

“You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Yoosung held a silencing finger up to his face while he gently closed the door behind him. He tiptoed across the room and moved the covers, getting into bed beside Saeran and putting down the stuffed animal at their hips. “I wanted to come say hi,” he whispered.

“Hi, Yoosung.”

“Hi, my sweetie.” Yoosung’s face was largely obscured by shadows, but Saeran could recognize his smile by the lift of his cheeks. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Saeran said.

Yoosung leaned over and planted his lips on his boyfriend’s neck. He started nipping gently with his lips and teeth, which made Saeran’s hair stand on end. Yoosung's breath was warm on his skin. When Saeran moaned softly, he could feel Yoosung’s lips stretch into a coy smile.

Leaving one last kiss, Yoosung took his mouth away, but stayed with his face at Saeran’s shoulder. “It’s not fair,” he whispered.

“What’s not?”

“I know we can’t do anything because my mom’s here, but right now I want to touch you more than ever. So bad it hurts.”

Saeran’s chest swelled. He couldn’t admit it, but he empathized completely. Instead, he changed the subject. “So why did you come to see me? Other than to sexually frustrate yourself.”

Yoosung rested his head on the pillow and looked Saeran in the eyes (an action that could only partially be reciprocated, as Saeran wasn’t exactly sure which area of this shadow was Yoosung’s eyes). “I missed you,” Yoosung said.

Saeran blushed. “Oh.”

Yoosung put a hand on Saeran’s cheek. “Also, I thought you might be lonely to sleep all alone in my bedroom. I thought you’d want someone to sleep with.”

“I... don’t know about _lonely_ ,” Saeran said, glad that Yoosung couldn’t see the redness in his face. “But, um, you can’t. Your mom will be mad.”

Yoosung laughed softly. “Not me, silly.”

Suddenly the inches of space between their faces was filled with two and a half pounds of stuffed orca. Yoosung laughed a little harder, the sound absorbed into the toy.

“Oh,” Saeran said, instantly annoyed.

Yoosung sat up and put the toy more comfortably against Saeran’s chest. “Don’t frown like that! I’m being very generous.” He reached up to pet Saeran’s hair. “Mr. Whale is my oldest friend, and he’s the second best cuddler I know. You should be flattered that I’m letting you borrow him.”

Saeran put his arms around the whale. “Fine,” he said. He paused for a moment. “Thanks, Yoosung.”

Yoosung took his hand away from Saeran’s head and smiled. “You look so cute. I have to get back before my mom wakes up, though.”

“Okay. Sleep well.”

“You too. I love you, Saeran.”

“I love you, too.”

Once Yoosung was gone, Saeran nuzzled slightly into the stuffed whale. He had to admit, it really was soft and a perfect size to hold against his chest. It was weird to imagine Yoosung as a little kid, holding this same toy.

Their childhoods were so different. This whale must have seen years of homemade meals, walks to school, family trips. Laughter and tears and everything in between. Saeran wasn’t naive enough to believe that any gesture could compensate for his lack of a normal childhood, or fill the gap that it left in him. Holding the toy, he just felt happy for Yoosung. Happy that at least the person he loved could experience that comfort. Happy that it made him the bright, warm person he was now.


	9. wintered debts

“When are you going to tell me what you know about Rika?”

He said it so casually. Like asking how your day went. Like asking whether it would rain tomorrow. Saeran looked up mechanically from his book and stared at him.

Yoosung was lying on his back, his shoulders propped up against the wall at the head of Saeran’s bed. He had his phone in his hands, although he wasn’t using it. The expression on his face was something familiar—the angry, focused stare he usually only showed when he was being protective or mildly threatening. Saeran had never been on the receiving end of it before, and it made his blood feel cold.

“I don’t...,” Saeran said, his voice weak. “What...?”

“Please,” Yoosung said, his expression breaking into something more desperate. “I know that I’m naive, but please, don’t... don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’ve noticed, Saeran.”

Saeran couldn’t say anything. He turned his head questioningly.

“I’ve _noticed_ the way you get when I talk about her. Like there’s something you’re trying not to say. And I’ve put it together that Saeyoung had something to do with her reappearance. The timing, it... it can’t all be a coincidence, right?” He sat up now, and Saeran realized that he was shaking. “So Saeyoung knows something, and so do you. Right?”

His heart pounding and his vision blurry, Saeran just kept staring in Yoosung’s direction. He felt frozen in place, still clutching the book in his lap.

“Please,” Yoosung said. “Yes or no. Do you know something or not?”

“Yes.” It came out automatically. Saeran’s voice felt dead in his throat.

Yoosung’s face turned red as tears immediately spilled onto his cheeks. His voice was rough and quivering. “She’s my _blood relative_ , you know. Whatever it is that the two of you know, you have no right to keep it from me.”

He stood up, letting his phone fall onto the floor, probably not even noticing it, and walked across the room. Each time he reached the wall, he began pacing in another direction. “Saeyoung has always treated me like a kid. He probably doesn’t think I could handle the truth. Poor baby Yoosung needs to have his fragile feelings protected, right? But you! I- I thought.... It’s like, how could you not stand up for me? Why?” He stopped pacing in front of the bed and looked at Saeran. “Do you... really think of me like that, too?”

Saeran still couldn’t respond, his body now trembling fiercely. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. None of this should have been happening. And Yoosung never, never talked to him this way. Saeran wound up hugging his legs, his face hidden in his knees, waiting somehow for the moment to pass and the tension to break by itself.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The only sound in Saeran’s room was Yoosung’s occasional sniffles, forceful as he tried to hold back larger sobs. They’d never fought before, never seriously at least, and they were scared. Scared by Yoosung’s overflowing frustration. Scared that their ability to communicate had simply collapsed. Scared of what all of this meant for them.

Yoosung was the first one to speak. “I’m going to go call your brother, so you don’t have to be home alone. B-but when he gets here, I’m leaving. I just....” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t be here right now. You can call me when you’re ready to talk.” Yoosung started toward the door.

“Wait.”

Yoosung looked back, and Saeran was already getting out of bed. He didn’t look up or gesture in any way. He moved with a lowered gaze and walked out of his room. Yoosung followed.

They went to the center of the living room, where Saeyoung’s largest computer desk was located. Saeran pulled out the chair with the seat toward Yoosung, silently encouraging him to sit down. Yoosung complied, and Saeran pushed in the chair. Taking the mouse, Saeran opened a file server on the desktop and typed in a password. Yoosung watched him navigate through folders, many of which bore titles like “CLASSIFIED” or long strings of numbers, to find what he was looking for.

Saeran had navigated through this server, to this exact document, many times. Particularly in his first couple months living with Saeyoung, he felt compelled to read and reread this report, to reaffirm what happened to him, to see the pictures and the documents that proved his coercion and abuse. Of course, even then, he couldn’t always believe it. And when he could believe, it still didn’t make him feel like a victim.

Finally he reached the file, retitled by Saeyoung simply as **mint eye report.pdf**. For a moment, Saeran considered asking Yoosung whether he was really prepared to read this. But he knew what the answer would be. He double-clicked the document and let it fill the screen. It was headed with the logo for Jumin’s company, though Saeyoung had wiped this information from their servers long ago.

“This will tell you everything you need to know.”

Yoosung looked up at him, an expression of fear and confusion on his face. But then he started reading.

Saeran stepped away from the desk. No matter how much he wanted to be supportive, there was no way he could stand there and watch Yoosung’s face as he processed this information. He thought about going back to his room and waiting, but it felt wrong to leave him alone, too. Saeran compromised by walking across the room and sitting down on the floor, his back against the wall. From here he could see most of the computer screen over Yoosung’s shoulder. He put his face against his knees again and waited.

Yoosung was reading for a long time, a period that dragged on like hours. Maybe it _was_ hours. The report itself was fairly succinct, so Yoosung must have been reading it multiple times. He was entirely silent, aside from the steady sound of the scroll wheel and the occasional involuntary gasp. Saeran could only imagine what he was seeing. The photographs of Rika in her robes? The results of her psychological evaluation? The section about what happened to V, about who pulled the trigger and how they covered it up as a suicide? He felt sick just thinking about it.

While he was waiting, Saeran entered a sort of semi-conscious state. It was something that his brain often did in response to stress. One moment his mind was racing, cycling through reasons to be scared and upset. The next, a feeling of sleepiness would overwhelm him, like a black cloud descended over his eyes, seeped into his wall of anxieties, and broke the pieces apart. He could circulate through that black cloud for hours, the anxieties occasionally reaching him in a vague and amorphous state. Like a prolonged fever dream.

He couldn't keep track of what was happening in the dream, from one moment to the next. But he knew that Yoosung was there. Sometimes with him, sometimes turning his back on him. She was there too, somewhere in the margins, where they couldn't see her but they could feel her gaze.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time Yoosung put a hand on his shoulder,  snapping him out of his meditative state, but through the room’s high windows he could see that it was dark outside. Yoosung had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks splotched with color. But his expression was something odd and unrecognizable.

“I read it,” he said. And then he collapsed into Saeran’s arms.

They held each other tightly, desperately, both crying. Yoosung had his arms around Saeran’s shoulders and one hand grasping his hair, squeezing as though he couldn’t possibly hold him close enough. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say? Eventually they would get around to the apologies, the explanations, the condolences. But those would all be formalities. They understood each other completely without saying a word.

Saeran noticed Yoosung’s sobs reaching a staccato rhythm as his breathing quickened. Saeran pulled back and Yoosung put his hands on the ground, holding himself up as he hyperventilated. Reaching around to rub small circles on Yoosung’s back, Saeran started coaching him through the breathing, telling him how to ride this out while focusing on his breath. At least a panic attack was something Saeran knew how to deal with concretely.

By the time Yoosung’s breathing slowed again, his crying had stopped for the moment. He leaned against Saeran, who continued to rub his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Yoosung choked out.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m. I’m really sorry. This whole time, I’ve been talking about the person who....”

“It’s okay,” Saeran repeated. “I’m sorry that we kept it from you.”

Yoosung started whimpering. “I don’t know what I’m su-supposed to do.” He began crying again.

Saeran held him closer, stroking his hair. “That’s okay, too. We’ll figure it out together.”

And they knew that they would. It felt like they were on the same team now. They were navigating all of this together.


	10. giving myself to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter that I wrote instead of working on my thesis oops.
> 
> Also! I made a Yooran 8tracks playlist hahah. You can listen to it here: http://8tracks.com/babyleefs/you-are-loved-yoosung-x-saeran

Yoosung took a poll: What’s the best way to confess your feelings to someone?

Zen said that it’s most important to wait for the right moment. A man should realize that the moment he confesses to a woman is something she’ll remember for the rest of her life. As easy as it is to just say the words, it’s important to focus on the story, the mood, the setting, things like that. Imagine that you could take the stars down from the sky and present them to her as a necklace. Do something realistic, but make it exactly that good.

Jaehee’s advice was more practical. She said that it’s important to keep in mind what the other person is interested in, and tailor the confession around something they love. If you and the other person have some shared interest or hobby, it’s not a bad idea to incorporate that into the confession. Make their favorite meal first, take them to a place you both enjoy... buy tickets to the play they want to see....

Jumin said that, based on what he’d observed, the confession should communicate something admirable about you as a man and as a partner. The move should be bold and confident, or perhaps gentle and sensitive, if that’s closer to their interest. He insisted that this tactic was rooted in common sense sales techniques.

Saeyoung said, Oh you mean my brother? and then he laughed and then his fiancee started laughing also.

“ _What?_ ” Yoosung froze up, his face turning red. “No! I mean, that’s not why I’m.... H-how did you....”

Saeyoung leaned into his webcam. “Is this really what you wanted to Skype over? You wanted to see our faces while you ask us how you should ask out my brother?”

Yoosung frowned. “I wanted to see your faces because it’s an important conversation that I would rather be having in person! But also, don’t change the subject! I never said who this is about....”

“Right,” she said. “But um, just to be clear, this _is_ about Saeran, right?” (“Nice, babe!” Saeyoung said in a stage whisper.)

Yoosung pouted, sinking lower into his chair. “How did you know?”

Saeyoung shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

“A lot of us have just, uh, picked up on certain... vibes from the two of you. It’s okay! It’s nothing to be-”

“Wait,” Yoosung said. “Who is ‘a lot of us?’ It’s not just you two?”

They glanced at one another, looked back at the computer screen, and shook their heads in unison. “Sorry,” Saeyoung said. “The whole RFA is in on it.”

Yoosung covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t upset that people knew his feelings, exactly. He was always open about things like this. It’s just that Yoosung himself had taken so long to uncover his feelings for Saeran, and afterwards, he was trying to be so delicate in interactions with him, trying to find out whether his feelings were returned without being too pushy or obvious.

But apparently to everyone else, it was one big obvious flirt fest.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Saeyoung said, “you have my blessing.”

Yoosung uncovered his face. “Really?”

“Well, I’m offended that you never asked for it to begin with. I am _very_ protective of my dear, sweet brother.” He grinned. “But sure. I can tell that you make him really happy.”

“I _do?_ ”

The couple on the other side of the screen laughed.

“Yes!” she said. “He’s crazy about you, obviously!”

Yoosung put his hands back over his face, this time letting himself grin stupidly where they couldn’t see it. Those words were already playing in his head on loop.

“My blessing comes with some conditions, though,” Saeyoung said.

Yoosung looked up, ready to ask what he meant, but Saeyoung was already out of his computer chair and standing in the background, sliding on his boots. “I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes,” he said. With a brief farewell kiss to his fiancee, Saeyoung exited the room.

“What?” Yoosung said. “What is he talking about? Why is he coming here?”

She shrugged. “He’s probably coming to give you a scary, ‘Lay one hand on my brother and I’ll kill you’ kind of talk. Don’t worry about it.”

Yoosung smiled nervously. “That sounds like the kind of thing I _should_ worry about.”

“I bet he’ll stop for snacks on the way,” she said helpfully. “Oh, but before you go, can I answer that question you asked before? About the best way to confess to someone?”

“Yes!” Yoosung said, grabbing the notepad and pen he had prepared for this discussion. “Thank you!”

She leaned in a little bit, smiling. “Okay, so Saeyoung danced around his feelings for a while with me. But when he finally, really opened up about them, he gave me a gift! It was something really special, something that he knew that I would use and love, but something that had a piece of him in it, too.”

“Ahh,” Yoosung said, blushing. “That sounds really romantic!”

“It was! So that’s my advice. I don’t think you can ever go wrong with a really thoughtful gift.”

“Thank you,” he said, closing up the notebook. “I think I’ll try that. Now, um, I should go pick up a little before Saeyoung gets here.”

“Good luck, Yoosung. And tell him to be home by dinner.”

 

* * *

 

He decided to wait two weeks until Saeran’s birthday. If he was going to take advantage of the gift-giving angle, then this seemed like the most natural and romantic time to do it. What better day to make him feel special?

Of course, there was an event planned for the birthday twins by the lady of the house, expert party planner herself. While her engagement party was fairly modest, she went all out for their birthday with streamers, music, snacks in real snack bowls, and a strictly semi-formal dress code. Though, much like her fiance, she was never above cheapening a significant moment with dumb humor. The banner greeting guests in the entryway read, in bold blue letters, “IT’S A BOYS!” The only obvious similarity between this event and her engagement party was the guest list: everyone in the RFA was in attendance.

Yoosung, who had decided on a plain white button-down and black slacks after a thirty minute game of anxious dress up that morning, tried his best to enjoy the party, waiting for the natural moment to arrive. He circulated through conversations and stress ate potato chips, but the blue, giftwrapped box in his hands felt like a timebomb. About an hour into the event, he noticed Saeran straggling on a faraway couch, arms crossed against his chest, and decided to make his move.

“Hey, Saeran,” Yoosung said, his voice low and gentle. “Want to go to your room? Get out of the crowd for a bit?”

Saeran simply nodded, his eyes cast downward, and followed Yoosung down the hall.

As soon as Yoosung closed the bedroom door behind him, Saeran was pulling off his gray knit sweater. Yoosung tried not to blush as it hit the floor and Saeran adjusted the collar on the maroon shirt he was wearing underneath. “It’s June,” Saeran said. “Why did she insist on me wearing this?”

“It looked nice on you,” Yoosung suggested. “But, um, the dress shirt looks good, too.”

Saeran looked at the floor, hugging his arms against his stomach. “... Thanks.”

Yoosung walked to the other end of the room and sat at the edge of Saeran’s bed. Still holding his blue box in one hand, he patted the spot next to him, encouraging Saeran to sit. Hesitantly, Saeran joined him, keeping a few inches of distance.

“So do you like the party?”

Saeran shrugged. “It’s loud, but it’s okay. I’ve never had a birthday party before.”

“That’s so sad!” Yoosung said without thinking. Saeran cast his eyes across the room, looking uncomfortable. Yoosung tried to renavigate. “But, um, I’m glad everyone could be here for your first one. I think that makes it special.”

“I guess so.”

There was a brief silence between them. Yoosung could feel the pounding of his heart in his throat. “Is it okay if I give you my present right now?”

“You got me something?” Saeran looked at the small box with furrowed eyebrows, and Yoosung realized that he genuinely wasn’t expecting a gift.

“Of course! Do you want to see what it is?”

Saeran nodded sheepishly and let Yoosung put the box in his hands. A tiny smile crossed Yoosung’s face as he realized that Saeran was the type to rip straight into the wrapping paper. In seconds, Saeran had it removed and was lifting the top from the cardboard box underneath.

He spent a moment looking at the object inside before carefully removing it from the box. It was a small ceramic tea pot, painted dark blue with yellow stars of different sizes dotting the surface. When he picked it up, a dozen tea packets surrounding the pot fell to the bottom of the box. Before Saeran could say anything, Yoosung cut in to explain.

“I was trying to think of something practical for you to use,” he said, “and I remembered that night when you called me because you couldn’t sleep.” (He didn’t mention that he remembered that night on a daily basis, remembered the cute, sleepy sound of Saeran’s voice and the conversation they had until two in the morning, when Saeran fell asleep on the other line, and Yoosung stayed up another thirty minutes listening to him breathe into the receiver. Anyway.) “All of the tea packets in there are supposed to be good for insomnia. Um, so I thought it could be helpful for you to make tea in this. And good for your health.”

Saeran examined the teapot closer to his face. “It’s....”

Yoosung cut in. “Oh, and there’s one more thing! The design on the outside. I painted it myself. It’s stars, see? I’m not the best artist, but I wanted it to be more personal. I thought maybe you would think of me when you use it.” He clutched the hem of his t-shirt in his trembling hands. “So, um, do you like it?”

Saeran didn’t often express himself without restraint, but when he looked at Yoosung, his face was lit up with a calm smile. “I do. Thank you, Yoosung.”

Yoosung's heart skipped. “I’m glad! Um.” His voice wavering, he took a moment to breathe. But the smile on Saeran’s face gave him the confidence to continue. “There’s one other thing that goes along with this gift.”

Saeran frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s a question.”

“Okay...?”

Face hot, hands clenched, knees trembling, heart pounding, Yoosung’s entire body was in terrified, agonizing anticipation. But he had to be brave.

“Will you go out with me?”

Everything in the room felt slow after that. The cautious expression on Saeran’s face didn’t shift. Yoosung couldn’t tell how many seconds passed, couldn’t even keep up with the number of times his heart pounded, before Saeran finally responded.

“Why?”

Yoosung could have laughed at the absurdity of it, had the answer not been clearly, painfully sad. “What do you mean why...?” he said. “Because I like you, Saeran. And I thought.... I mean, it seemed like you might like me, too.”

Saeran stared at the teapot in his hands, his expression blank.

Yoosung kept waiting for a response that, after many agonizing seconds, didn’t come. “Well?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

It was incredible, honestly, how much the words felt like a literal punch to the chest. Yoosung shook his head, already feeling tears in his eyes. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not a good idea.” He sounded more annoyed.

“But why? If it’s just that you don’t like me, then that’s f-fine, but....”

Saeran shook his head. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. He thought for a long time. And then he spoke, his voice low and vaguely irritated. “You don’t deserve this.”

Finally Yoosung understood. He had been thinking only of himself, of Saeran’s feelings toward him, not about his feelings in general. Knowing Saeran the way he did, he could have pieced it together, but the conversation he had with Saeyoung was helpful in contextualizing it.

 _“Do you understand?”_ Saeyoung had said, staring unblinking into Yoosung’s eyes. _“If you’re with him, you’re a part of his recovery. He can’t be all fun and dating to you. And he can’t be an experimental phase. You have to be there for him, whether he’s struggling or not. Don’t make the first move unless you know you want that._

_“I’m not saying you have to go in with the intention of, like, getting married or anything, but.... No, actually, just saying those words is enough to give me an ulcer. All I’m saying is, you have to be serious. You have to be prepared for when things are hard. And if you’re not, you have to be prepared to live the rest of your life on my bad side.”_

Saeyoung wasn’t wrong. Yoosung knew that Saeran was different, that a relationship with him couldn’t always be the tender, carefree romance he’d always imagined for himself. But sitting here now, he knew that Saeyoung wasn’t exactly right, either. Though it surely wasn’t deliberate, Saeyoung had talked about him as a problem to be solved. A puzzle on the hardest difficulty. A landmine of issues. Of course Saeyoung didn’t really see him that way.

But Saeran did.

“Saeran,” Yoosung said, putting a hand on one of his. He felt the cold ceramic of the teapot underneath. “I need to clarify, okay? I love you.”

Yoosung felt Saeran’s skin turn hot beneath his own, watched his face turn red. But Saeran didn’t move, so he continued, feeling flustered but determined.

“Y-You’re, um, you’re just the kindest, gentlest person. There’s something in your heart that’s so soft, and I don’t think you even realize it? You have all these amazing and beautiful thoughts! Even when you’re mad or annoyed, I like that side of you, too....” He smiled sadly. “God, Saeran, I’ve been in love with you for weeks. Every time we talk, I just, I feel good for hours. I forgot what it was like to feel so excited about something.”

Yoosung didn’t realize it, but their bodies were getting closer. He continued.

“I know that you’re scared, but you don’t have to be! I- I want to do this. I know that I’m not always strong, but I’m giving myself to you, as a man, so you don’t have to worry about me following through, even when things are hard. If… if you’ll have me, I’ll never let you go.”

Yoosung took back his hand to indicate that he was finished, and he waited for a response, his mind buzzing. He smiled involuntarily, feeling proud of the words he’d put together.

“Yoosung...,” Saeran said, his voice barely above a whisper.

When Saeran’s voice trailed off, Yoosung thought about asking him directly for an answer. But then he realized—the inches of space that had separated them were gone. They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh. Saeran was holding the teapot half in Yoosung’s lap, half in his own. The two made eye contact, and Saeran’s eyes communicated everything. A non-verbal response.

Yoosung put a hand on Saeran’s cheek. He didn’t pull away, so Yoosung leaned closer. They met halfway in a kiss.

Timidly, excitedly, Yoosung landed soft, slow pecks on Saeran’s lips. At first he was afraid to kiss him any other way, as though any more force would make him bend, a man made of smoke. But Saeran was the first to deepen the kiss, taking the time to suck on Yoosung’s lower lip, release it, and come back for more. While they navigated this new activity, Yoosung ran his hands through Saeran’s hair, pleased to discover that it was as soft as it looked.

When they finally broke away, Saeran rested his head in the crook of Yoosung’s neck, an attempt to hide the smile on his face. Yoosung stroked his hair.

“I love you, Saeran,” he whispered. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll stay by your side no matter what, and I’ll never be unhappy there.”

Saeran put the teapot aside so that he could wrap his arms around Yoosung’s waist.

Yoosung smiled. “You’re so cute. I can’t wait to tell you that a million times.” He sighed. “Everyone’s probably starting to wonder where we went, though.”

“Let them wonder,” Saeran said.

Saeran wanted to remember everything about this moment. The warmth of Yoosung’s skin and the smell of his clothes. The stillness of the room. The way their voices hung low and heavy in the air. The fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Happy birthday,” Yoosung whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cute epilogue for this chapter is that later they go eat birthday cake and hold hands under the table. Yoosung tries to eat with the fork in his left hand because of this and winds up dropping cake all down his front. It's very smooth and every damn person at the table definitely doesn't know exactly what's happening. Afterwards they sneak to a side room and Saeran cleans the crumbs off Yoosung's shirt and then they make out a little because they're in Full Honeymoon Mode right now folks.


	11. makeup

Saeran was left in a dazed state as Yoosung pulled away from their kiss. He gradually opened his eyes, mentally realigning himself within his bedroom, propped up on pillows, breathing heavily. His boyfriend was positioned above him, looking like an angel with the yellow light of the ceiling lamp catching on his blond hair. Saeran couldn’t help smiling a little bit.

“Hey,” Yoosung said, a hand softly placed on Saeran’s chest. “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Saeran nodded, and Yoosung excused himself from the room, taking a moment to adjust his clothing before slipping out the door.

Sitting up in bed, Saeran tried to breathe slowly and calm his heart rate. He found himself in this position a lot these days. He would have assumed that by now, a few weeks into dating Yoosung, he could handle their physical contact without the intense palpitations, but so far that wasn’t the case. His life had changed in so many weird ways. Of course there were obvious things, like the addition of “good morning” and “good night” texts to his daily routine, but there were unexpected changes, too. His life now involved taking more selfies, to meet the sudden increased demand. More home-cooked meals, but somehow more takeout boxes on his bedside table, too. More romance movies than he ever expected to watch in his lifetime.

Also, a lot more questions. How are you feeling, Saeran? What did you do today? What are you thinking about? That adjustment had been difficult. How honestly was he supposed to answer these things? How honest could he get, before he said something accidentally horrifying and ruined everything for good?

So his answers had been a little lacking.

Saeran’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of voices in another room. First a distinctive high-pitched yelp from Yoosung, then a burst of laughter from Saeyoung. Then some short, whiny plead by Yoosung again, followed by a series of heavy footsteps leading up to his bedroom door.

When Yoosung reentered the room, his face was bright red, and he had one hand clasping the side of his neck. He shut the door and scampered onto the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Saeran said, ready to rush outside and confront his brother. “What did he do to you?”

“Uh- uhm. He didn’t do anything, but....” Yoosung’s voice was shaking. “I’m, uh, a little embarrassed.”

He took his hand off of his neck to show Saeran what he was hiding. A quarter-sized hickey, fresh and bright red, directly below his jawline.

Saeran looked down, mortified. “Oh.... I-I’m sorry.”

“No, uh, it’s okay!" Yoosung said, shaking his head quickly. "I figure it was an accident, right?”

Saeran didn’t say anything. He definitely couldn't tell Yoosung what he was thinking.

Yoosung had his phone out to examine the hickey with his camera. “I have class in three hours,” he whined. “Why can’t it be scarf season now?”

Saeran glanced around the room regretfully. “Um. I have some concealer you might be able to use.” He reached over to open a drawer on his bedside table.

Forgetting about his hickey for a moment, Yoosung leaned over to peer into the drawer. “Hey,” he said, reaching out a finger, “what are those?”

Saeran looked in the direction that he was pointing. “That’s eyeliner. And that’s mascara.”

“Why do you own makeup?”

Saeran stopped and turned to Yoosung, at a loss for words. He stared hard, his eyebrows furrowed incredulously. A look of dawning realization crossed over Yoosung’s face.

“Oh! You wear makeup!”

“Wha....” Saeran tilted his head, totally confused. “Did you not notice?! Did you think my eyes just look like this?”

“W-well I don’t know!” Yoosung said, raising his hands defensively. “I don’t know anything about makeup. I assumed your eyes were just naturally really pretty. Oh! Not that your eyes aren’t really pretty anyway, because they are, seriously!”

Saeran tried, and failed, to hide the annoyed tone in his voice. “Forget about it. I have this concealer for you to use.”

“So why do you wear makeup?” Yoosung asked, ignoring the beige bottle in Saeran’s hand. Apparently now it was question time.

Saeran shrugged. “I don’t know. I like how it looks. Is that wrong?”

“No, not at all!” Yoosung said. “It’s just, not many guys wear stuff like that, so I thought there might be a bigger reason.”

“Not really.” And again, Saeran failed to fully answer one of Yoosung’s questions. But this one was definitely too embarrassing. Eventually he’d work up the nerve to respond more fully to things, but it couldn’t start here.

Yoosung scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think you could try putting it on me?” The blush on his face betrayed his nervousness, but his eyes were direct and honest.

Putting down the bottle, Saeran swallowed hard. “Really? If... if you want to, I guess. Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I’m really curious. Um, do you think it might look good on me?”

Although he avoided Yoosung’s eyes, Saeran nodded.

After moving his desk lamp, to provide extra lighting, and clipping Yoosung’s hair out of his face, Saeran was ready to start.

“So what do I do?” Yoosung said, sitting upright with the intent gaze of a good student.

“I’m going to start with your lower eyelid,” Saeran said, uncapping the eyeliner pen. “You just have to keep your eyes open.”

Saeran neared his face with the pen in hand. He put a hand on Yoosung’s cheek to keep him steady. Saeran felt Yoosung’s face get hot under his touch, and realized he was starting to feel flustered, as well. Just twenty minutes ago he’d had his tongue on this boy’s throat. Why on earth did this feel so _intimate_?

Pushing the thoughts aside, Saeran finally landed the pen at the edge of Yoosung’s right eyelid, only to feel him jerk away immediately, eyes shut tight.

“So close!” Yoosung said. “That was so close to my eye!”

“Well, yeah,” Saeran said, trying to keep his voice steady, uncertain whether to feel annoyed or apologetic and getting equal doses of both. “It has to be that close or it won’t look right.”

Yoosung frowned, rubbing his eye. “That’s impossible. What if you poke my eyeball?”

Saeran sighed, pulling on Yoosung’s shoulder to make him sit straight again. “If it freaks you out, you don’t have to do this,” he said. “But I won’t hit your eye. I promise.”

Yoosung hesitated. And then, unexpectedly, he smiled. “Okay.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I'm still nervous, but hearing you promise makes me feel better. I know I can trust you.”

How did he always manage to say these perfectly innocent things that drove Saeran’s heart crazy?

Saeran steadied Yoosung’s head and tried again with the eyeliner. This time his lower lid twitched when the pen tip made contact, but he stayed in place. Saeran did his best to get the line drawn quickly and evenly as he watched tears form in Yoosung’s eyes. “Almost done,” he said. “Okay. Upper lid now.”

“I’m amazed that you do this every day, Saeran.”

“Oh.... It’s not that hard to do it to yourself.”

Yoosung blinked suddenly as the pen moved around the ridge of his eyelid. “Ah, sorry.” He blinked a few more times before raising his face again for Saeran to continue.

“It’s okay. You didn’t smudge anything.”

Saeran was beginning to feel guilty. Yoosung’s eyes were turning red as they accumulated tears, and he flinched at every touch of pen, but he almost never blinked. He was patient and still, allowing Saeran to put this sharp object dangerously close to his eye. And as uncomfortable as he undoubtedly was, he trusted Saeran not to make a mistake.

This was trust, right? Showing vulnerabilities without fear. Handing someone the power to hurt you, and knowing that they wouldn’t. It felt good, Saeran realized, to know that Yoosung trusted him, in spite of everything. So what was the reverse of that? When someone you care for can’t trust you, does it hurt?

“At first I just did it to look cool,” Saeran said, tilting Yoosung’s head to start drawing under his left eye.

“Wearing the makeup, you mean?”

“Mm. Well, maybe not to look _cool_ , but....” He frowned. “I wanted to seem above everything. When other people saw me, I wanted them to think that I was too bold to care, and I wanted that to intimidate them. Looking back, I don’t know why I thought eye makeup would accomplish that, but....”

“No,” Yoosung said, “it makes sense. That’s why rock stars wear it, right?”

Saeran paused for a moment. Coming out of Yoosung’s mouth, it sounded so stupid and childish. But, he supposed, he really _was_ a child back then. He continued with the eyeliner.

“So what about now? Do you still wear it to look, um, intimidating?”

“No,” he said. “It’s more complicated now. I’m not sure if I could explain.” Saeran finished with the last of Yoosung’s eyeliner and put down the pen. He reached for the mascara next.

“You could try,” Yoosung said, smiling calmly. And without noticing it, Saeran was smiling, too.

“Look up,” he said, taking out the mascara brush. He started on Yoosung’s upper eyelashes. “I guess it’s like this. Every morning, for so many years, I woke up and put this on. Um. I shouldn’t have to clarify this, but it was a bad time in my life.”

Yoosung was looking directly at him, making eye contact with Saeran when the mascara brush wasn’t obstructing his vision. He didn’t speak.

“But I liked this,” Saeran said. “I don’t feel complicated about it. If I can wake up in the morning and put this on, then I’ve already chosen something for myself. Close your eyes. I, um, didn’t originally pick out this sweater, for example, or this bedroom. I didn’t pick... most things. But I picked this.”

Saeran sheathed the mascara brush and twisted the bottle shut. Yoosung was batting his eyelashes, trying to adjust to the awkward weight of his eyelids.

“Does that make any sense?” Saeran said, crossing his arms and looking at his bedspread.

“Yes,” Yoosung said. “I think I totally understand, Saeran. And I like that you wear this stuff. I'm glad you make that choice.”

Saeran’s heart was racing again. This time not from physical contact, but from something that felt a bit similar.

Yoosung was looking at himself in his phone camera. “Oh!” he said. “It’s a bit... cute? Is that too vain? I think I look really cute!”

“You do,” Saeran said, fully examining his handiwork. Yoosung looked downright feminine with eye makeup, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It kind of suited him. And he really _was_ cute.

“Can we take a selfie together?” Yoosung asked. “I want everyone to see that we match.”

Saeran nodded. Normally he’d protest, especially to the idea of the photo being shared, but right now he felt good. A thought crossed his mind, and before he could second guess himself, he spoke. “Hey Yoosung?”

“Hm?”

“The hickey was on purpose. I wanted to do it. I liked the idea of leaving a mark on you.”

Within seconds, Yoosung’s face was as red as the mark on his neck, his eyes wide. Saeran’s stomach was twisting, too, as he realized what he’d just shared. He leaned over, resting his forehead on his hand to obscure his face. He managed to articulate a strained, “S-sorry.”

“No,” he heard Yoosung say, “ _I’m_ sorry! You just caught me off guard. Um. I got really, uh, happy to hear you say that. To be honest, I didn’t want to cover it up anyway. I like it. I want everyone to see that you marked me.”

Saeran sank lower, until he was doubled over with his forehead against his mattress. He felt like a mess. This boy was going to be the death of him.

* * *

 

 **Yoosung★:** Hi everyone~

 **Yoosung★:** Saeran says hi, too!

_[Yoosung★ attached a photo: 0629_0001.jpg]_

**Jaehee Kang:** Hello, you two.

 **ZEN:** Another selfie of the new couple.

 **ZEN:** Remember when I used to post the most selfies? lol

**Jumin Han: You still do.**

**ZEN:** Who asked you?!

 **Jaehee Kang:** Um, Yoosung? Are you wearing...

 **Jumin Han:** Makeup.

 **ZEN:** Huh??

 **Jaehee Kang:** So he is....

 **Yoosung★:** Saeran did it for me.

 **Yoosung★:** Isn’t it cute?

 **Jaehee Kang:** Very nice....;;

 **ZEN:** I could make fun, but as a stage actor, that would make me a hypocrite.

 **ZEN:** Doesn’t look half bad on you, Yoosung.

 **Yoosung★:** ^^

 **Jaehee Kang:** Yes, it oddly suits your face.

 **ZEN:** Oh and Yoosung…

 **ZEN:** Nice hickey lololol

 **Yoosung★:** Thanks!

 **ZEN:** ...

 **Jaehee Kang:** ...

 **Jumin Han:** ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About midway through writing this I realized the irony of writing this story about Saeran making sure not to hurt Yoosung's eye.
> 
> I also drew some art to go along with this chapter! You can see it on my Tumblr: http://neighborhoodtom.tumblr.com/post/152505346218/


	12. the ocean, a baby deer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY do I hope you guys like intense and introspective fluff.
> 
> There are a couple events that Yoosung references in this chapter that I haven't written about, but I will be! I'm just sitting on them until it feels like the right place.

It hurts a little bit, if I’m being totally honest.

I don’t want to be greedy. He’s given me so much already, so much more than I expected. He even held my hand in public yesterday! Well, not exactly in public.... It was his living room. But when Saeyoung walked by, he didn’t pull his hand away like he did last weekend, and that meant a lot. And when we’re in private, he’ll initiate kisses or cuddles like it’s no big deal.

Even if he doesn’t say it, he shows it. Like right now, my heart feels warm just looking at the way he’s curled up at my side in bed, holding the corner of my t-shirt in his hand. He’s looking up at me through his long, dark eyelashes. His gaze is so direct, his eyebrows slightly arched, but he’s breathing slow.

How could he look so peaceful, so content, if he doesn’t love me?

I close my textbook and reach over to stroke his hair. It’s soft.... I always want to run my fingers through it. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

He nods.

After putting the book away, I turn off my bedside lamp, leaving us bathed in darkness and the pale glow of outside street lamps. Saeran pulls off his hoodie and places it at the foot of my bed. Both wearing t-shirts and boxers, we slip underneath the covers. How quickly did we get comfortable sleeping this way? We’ve been... skirting around certain physical boundaries. I’ve seen him shirtless once in the past two months together, and that’s it. But when he sleeps over, we go to bed like this without even a hint of embarrassment.

I’m inexperienced with relationships, so maybe this is wrong. Maybe things don’t happen like they do in romance movies. But sometimes I feel like we’re moving out of order. I told him I loved him before we even kissed. I spent our first date taking care of him with the flu. We sleep in the same bed every weekend, but neither of us has worked up the nerve to suggest... well, other bedroom activities. (How can I ask for it when I’m too embarrassed to even say the word...?)

We share a soft kiss. “I love you, Saeran. Sweet dreams.”

He’s lying curled up on his side, facing my shoulder, a softly fisted hand against his mouth. “Good night,” he says, and closes his eyes.

And again, it hurts a little bit.

... Look, I don’t have to question whether or not he loves me. He wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t, would he? He wouldn’t let me see him sleeping. He wouldn’t log into the messenger just to stop Saeyoung from tormenting me. He wouldn’t eat my cooking, even when it turns out bad, and insist that it was fine.

He’s just scared, and I get that. I think he’s afraid to move forward, or maybe he’s scared to acknowledge how he feels. Or maybe he’s just embarrassed? Okay, I’d be lying if I said that I knew what goes on in his head, but... he’ll tell me what he’s thinking eventually. He always does.

I close my eyes and decide to enjoy what I have right now. What I have is a cute boy at my side, breathing tiny puffs of breath on my shoulder. A boy who will start frowning again the second we step outside, but who softens like melted ice cream when we’re alone. Isn’t that amazing?

My mind slows down so suddenly, and my thoughts trail off into loose, distant places.

  


“Lef… computer down downstair....”

Inches from sleep, the sound of his voice pulls me back abruptly. I look over at him, my heart picking up speed, and scan his face. Eyes closed, brows relaxed, breath soft. No signs of a nightmare. He did say something, didn’t he?

“What’s that?” I whisper, not loud enough to wake him up if he’s sleeping.

“Lef’ the computer on. Downstairs.”

I have to hold back a laugh. Saeran has nightmares regularly, but _sleeptalking_ Saeran.... This is new.

“You left the computer on?”

“... Hya.”

I’m grinning so wide, it hurts my cheeks. I struggle to keep my voice soft. “There’s no downstairs, sweetie. You’re at my apartment.”

He frowns. “Mmm. I left did on.”

I decide to play along, just to ease his worries. “I already turned it off for you,” I say. “It’s off.”

His expression softens. “Okay good.”

“Go to sleep now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight. I love you.”

“Mm.” His words come out in a sigh. “Love you... so much....”

My breath catches in my throat. I stop breathing entirely for a moment, holding myself still, in case he tries to say something else. But seconds pass, and he’s returned to slow inhales and heavy exhales.

I can’t take my eyes off of him. I can’t keep the smile off of my face. My chest is swelling, my heart pounding to the rhythm of _he loves me. he loves me. he loves me._ Because it’s true, and I finally know it. He loves me.

Not that I ever doubted.... Haha.

Again, I realize, we’re moving out of order. Our first date wasn’t a date, we sleep together without _sleeping_ together, and now I know that he loves me before he’s actually told me he loves me. So maybe we’re just a weird couple. I don’t mind. I spent years fantasizing about my first girlfriend. We’d meet through school, we’d go on dates, we’d be cute, then passionate, then committed, then domestic, whatever.

Being with Saeran is nothing like that, but at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. How could I, when Saeran is already everything? He’s the shy one, but there are things I’m afraid to say, too. Like that I already imagine our futures together. Like that I think the universe kept me single because it was waiting for our paths to cross. Like that I think of him as the ocean, powerful and overwhelming. I think he’s a baby deer standing on his legs for the first time. I think he’s so strong and so innocent all at once. And on top of all that, he’s becoming my best friend.

Gosh.... It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? And it’s way too honest. But these are the things that I think about, when he’s lying here beside me.

There’s so much that he hasn’t said, so much we haven’t done, but he can take as long as he needs. I’ll wait. We have so much time to get there.


	13. leveling up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are two shorts about video games. Enjoy!

Yoosung and Saeran were friends.

At least, Yoosung hoped that they were. If anyone asked, he’d definitely say that Saeran was his friend. They talked and laughed together, they sat together at RFA events, they expressed solidarity as frequent targets of Saeyoung’s teasing. Those things definitely make you friends! But he and Saeran rarely talked, so he had to wonder whether Saeran reciprocated.

The text he received one Sunday morning clarified.

 **Saeran:** What are you doing today

Yoosung, still lying in bed, reread the unexpected message a few times. He was already smiling.

 **Yoosung★:** No plans! Why do you ask? :)

Instead of responding, Saeran attached a photo. It showed an opened cardboard box, packed with Honey Buddha Chips, in what Yoosung recognized as the Choi’s living room.

 **Saeran:** You like these things, right?

 **Yoosung★:** Omg!!

 **Yoosung★:** Did Saeyoung give you all those?

 **Saeran:** Stole them.

 **Saeran:** You can come take some.

 **Yoosung★:** Omg!!!

 **Yoosung★:** Be there in 20 min

 

Saeran put down his phone, feeling nauseated. Feeling stupid for feeling nauseated. Before he could analyze his nervousness too thoroughly, his co-conspirator and future sister-in-law squeezed his shoulder. “Yoosung’s coming over?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great. You’ll have fun. Make sure he takes that box when he leaves, though, so your brother doesn’t snack himself to an early grave.”

As she started to leave the room, Saeran was fidgeting with his hands. He called after her. “What are we supposed to do when he’s here?”

She turned back, an empathetic smile on her face, and shrugged. “Whatever you want, Saeran. Play Mario Kart or something.”

 

“Do you like Mario Kart?”

Yoosung and Saeran were on opposite ends of the couch, Yoosung elbow-deep in a bag of chips, Saeran staring at the floor, regretting this entire plan. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Yoosung’s face lit up.

“You want to play games with me?”

Saeran rubbed his neck with one hand. “You seem bored.”

“I’m not bored. But I think Mario Kart sounds really fun. Do you want to set it up?”

Saeran nodded, crossing the room and getting on his knees in front of the TV, glad for a task to focus on.

“Which character do you play?” Yoosung said through a mouth full of chips.

“Uh, I’ve only played it twice. Last time I played as the ghost guy, though.”

Yoosung laughed, a little harder than seemed reasonable. “That’s so you! You would definitely use him.”

Saeran, sorting out wires for the game console, was glad his back was turned to Yoosung. No one could see his stupid smile. “What about you?”

“Well, I used to play Yoshi, but now there’s a character with this whole star theme....” He sighed. “She’s really cool, and I feel like I should switch to her, but then it’s like I’m abandoning my loyalty to Yoshi. I feel really conflicted, so I wind up switching back and forth.”

The wires sorted out, Saeran switched on both the console and the TV. He turned back to Yoosung. “You really think this much about things like that?”

Yoosung laughed nervously. “I do! Is that… is it really childish of me?”

Saeran shook his head and joined Yoosung on the couch, tossing him a game controller. “Just weird.”

Yoosung smiled. He knew that it wasn’t an insult.

Saeran Choi and Yoosung Kim were both pretty terrible at Mario Kart. Saeran, whose face turned red with frustration every time he fell off the map, opted for caution, trailing far behind the other racers as he made careful turns around every obstacle. As soon as he received a speed boosting power-up, he abandoned this care and inevitably fell off the track, mumbling a curse word under his breath as his character spiraled off screen. Yoosung, meanwhile, had no sense of caution whatsoever, nor restraint. He drove headfirst into obstacles, dropped power-ups the moment he received them, and whined vocally whenever he was held up. Although Yoosung fared relatively better, neither player would be standing on the winner’s podium.

“I thought you were good at video games?”

“I am!” Yoosung said. “Well, I’m good at LOLOL. That’s an MMORPG, which is totally different than racing games. The skills don’t translate at all.”

“If you say so. Pass me a bag of those chips.”

Over an hour passed before they realized it, playing round after round, chatting and joking openly in between. For a while, Saeran was able to forget his embarrassment, his anxiety, his conflicted emotions. Yoosung’s laughter and smile kept returning between rounds, reassuring him that this was still okay, they were still having fun. They were in the middle of a round when the mastermind behind the whole get-together returned to the living room.

“Hey, Yoosung,” she said.

“Hi.” His reply was dry and curt as he leaned into a sharp turn. “Sorry, can’t. Talk super well. Driving.”

She leaned against the doorway and observed. At the end of the round, Yoosung had finished in a reasonable 4th place, while Saeran found himself in 7th. Once they’d put down their controllers, she laughed.

“What’s funny?” Saeran said, tensing up.

“You two!” she said. “You’re cute. You’re sitting here playing this bright and colorful party game, and you’ve got these identical expressions on your faces like....” She took a moment to settle her face into an exaggerated frown, using her pointer fingers to imitate sharply-angled angry eyebrows.

Yoosung laughed, but Saeran just looked at the floor and felt his face get hot. Had they really both been concentrating that hard?

“You two keep playing, but Yoosung, let me know if you want a ride home later. Okay?”

“Thank you!” Yoosung called after her as she walked back toward her bedroom. He turned to Saeran with a relaxed smile on his face. “This has been really fun.”

“Y... yeah?” Saeran looked up at him with red strands of hair partially covering his eyes.

“Of course! I was really glad that you wanted to hang out with me, Saeran. I was worried that you didn’t think of us as friends.”

“Oh.” Saeran crossed his arms. “Did you... want to be friends?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

Yoosung was caught off-guard by the question, but he answered without hesitation. “Because you’re kind. Because you’re a member of RFA. Because you say interesting things. And I think we have a lot in common, too. Ever since you joined, I haven’t felt so much like the baby of the group anymore. Not to say you’re a _baby_ or anything like that, but.... I feel like you and I could look out for each other, in a way? Sorry, this isn’t making sense.”

“No,” Saeran said. “I get it.”

Yoosung put the game controller down and paused. There was a tension in the air that he didn’t recognize. But he decided to say what was on his mind. “Do you think we could be that for each other? Sort of like partners?”

Saeran couldn’t speak. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He just nodded, and then watched Yoosung’s mouth stretch into a brilliant smile.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung and Saeran were dating.

“Are you almost done? I want to see you!”

“I’m working on it. Don’t rush me.”

“Sorry. But are you still on the character creator?”

“Mm-hm.”

“ _Still?_   What are you making him look like?”

Saeran stopped what he was doing for a moment to adjust his headset. “Uhh, y’know. Red hair, green eyes, 173 centimeters tall. Maybe some tattoos.”

Yoosung laughed. “Ohh, so Saeran is the type to model the video game character after himself. Isn’t that missing out on some of the fantasy, though?”

Instinctively Saeran shrugged, although Yoosung couldn’t see it. “I didn’t really think about it. Isn’t the way I look fine?”

“Of course it’s fine,” Yoosung said, a grin present in his voice. “Your character sounds really handsome.”

Saeran smiled. “Dummy.”

Pressing a button to zoom out, Saeran assessed his work. The character was a fairly accurate model of himself, albeit with a broader frame and more masculine facial features, as was inherent to the game’s character models. He wondered briefly whether he _should_ go back and make the character look different, but decided against it. Yoosung was sure to make a big deal of any changes now. Saeran clicked the Complete button.

“Done. I’m at another loading screen. Wait, it’s asking me whether I want to take the tutorial.”

“Skip it!” Yoosung said. “I want to teach you everything myself.”

Yoosung gave Saeran instructions on which server to join and which menu options to press. Within minutes, he was in the game.

“Okay, I’m standing in this field. Where do I go?”

“Do you see the structure up the hill from where you spawned? Walk up there.”

“Got it.” Saeran ascended the hill and watched a familiar screen name come into view.

“I see you!” Yoosung said, navigating his character down the hill to meet Saeran halfway. “I’m so excited that you’re finally playing. Welcome to LOLOL!”

“Thanks,” Saeran said. “So, uh, what’s the point of this game?”

It was funny, Saeran thought, that he could tell Yoosung was pouting without needing to see his face. “What’s the _point_?” Yoosung said. “Fun! Heroism! Adventure! Spending time with your boyfriend!”

Saeran laughed. “Okay then. What are you going to show me first?” As soon as he said it, a notification appeared on his screen. **_Superman Yoosung_ ** _wants to trade_. Saeran hit the Accept button. “What are you doing?”

“I prepared for this,” Yoosung said. “I’m giving you the best armor that you can wear at the starting defense level. I’m giving you the best starter weapon for your class. Also, here’s fifty thousand gold and some healing items.”

“Oh,” Saeran said. “You really want to give me all this?”

“Of course! You’ll advance levels so quickly this way.”

Saeran hovered over the acceptance button on the trade. “Just seems out of character for you. You always talk about people who take shortcuts having no pride in the game or whatever.”

Through his headset, Saeran heard Yoosung emit a tiny, strangled whine. “I _know_ ,” he said, “but... I was so excited that I could do this for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Saeran, I.... I don’t have very much money. I’m not done with school yet. I can’t buy you nice gifts or take you on trips. But! I’m really good at this game. Even though I don’t play as often anymore, in the LOLOL world I have so much. Isn’t it natural that I’d want to spoil you a little? And then we can go around in-game, and everyone can see how strong we are together.”

There was a long silence.

“Saeran? Are you there?”

“Yeah,” he said. He was covering his face with his hands, cheeks bright red, feeling completely flustered at Yoosung’s impassioned speech. He reached for his mouse and accepted the trade. “You’re cute, Yoosung. Sure. I’ll be your trophy wife, if that’s what you want.”

Yoosung laughed nervously. “Oh, um, hahah.”

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, it’s just interesting that you mention, um, marriage.”

He hadn’t really, but Saeran played along. “Why’s that?”

“There’s a marriage system in this game,” Yoosung said. “We could, uh, take advantage of it eventually, if you wanted to. We’d get bonuses on attacks and healing and stuff when we’re in battle together.”

“Something like that exists, and you haven’t already taken advantage of it?”

“No!” Yoosung said. “No, never. Um, most people in my guild just married off to another player who they battle with often. But I wanted to wait. I always said I’d save my in-game marriage for the person I started dating in real life.”

“Yoosung.”

“What?”

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“O-oh, hahah. Don’t swear! Some kids play this game.”

Saeran rested his chin on his hand. “So how does the marriage process work? Do I have to be a certain level?”

“Wait.... Are you really interested?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

A sharp gasp came from Yoosung’s end. “Saeran, I’m so happy! Oh, wait a second. Let me do this properly.”

Yoosung sent another trade request, which Saeran accepted.

“Saeran Choi,” he said. “Will you be my husband in LOLOL and make me the happiest warrior alive?” Yoosung dropped an item into the trade: a Diamond Ring (+10% resistance on undead enemies).

Saeran was glad that he didn’t have to hide the grin on his face. “Yes, Yoosung.”

“Oh my god,” Yoosung said. “I’m so happy. I wish I c-could kiss you right now.”

“Yoosung, are you crying?”

“N-no! I’m not! But this is really emotional....”

“You dummy. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	14. Rika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make sure it's clear that this takes place after chapter 9 (wintered debts, the one where Yoosung finds out about Rika). Maybe a month or so later? This is probably been the most difficult chapter I've written, and I don't know how it's going to come across, but I need to stop editing and just publish the thing.

One night Yoosung took him to the roof of his apartment building. The weather was nice enough. It hadn’t rained in awhile, so they could lie out side-by-side on the concrete, feel the cold seep up through their clothes, feel rigid bumps of cement dig into the skin of their bare arms. They could look up at an expansive black sky, dotted with stars. Not the sparkling, brilliant haze of stars that Yoosung had seen on family camping trips, or that Saeran had seen from the castle in the woods. They were too close to the city for that. But there were enough stars to get lost in. When they held hands, felt each other’s grasp as the sky encompassed their vision, it was like reassurance. The sky can’t swallow you; I’m still right here.

Yoosung spoke first.

“I’m really glad I could bring you up here.”

“Me too.”

“Hey Saeran? You know how we decided… we could talk about her sometimes?”

A slow exhale. “Mm-hm.”

“We used to talk about the stars.” A squeeze of the hand. “I remember telling her something I learned in school, that it takes billions of years for the light from the stars to travel here. She liked that. She said that means that when you look at the night sky, it’s like you’re seeing the past and the present all at once. Now it’s all I can think about when I look at the stars like this.”

“Huh. I’m lucky she never used that one on me.”

Silence.

Silence.

Yoosung whispered. “... I still think it’s really beautiful.”

“You feel complicated about her.”

“No. I hate her.”

“It’s okay if you don’t hate her.”

In a louder voice. “I hate her, Saeran. I’m not just saying it. I do.”

Silence.

Silence.

“I don’t really know what to say.”

“You can say anything you want. I just thought it would feel good to finally talk about her.” Yoosung sighed. “I guess it’s harder than I thought, though.”

“You can say whatever you want, too. Please don’t hold back for my sake.”

“I feel like all the talking we’ve done about her has come from me. Is there nothing that you want to say, Saeran? If not, that’s fine, but....”

“I’ve had a lot longer to get over it. I just.... I don’t want you to have to go through what I did.”

A loosened grip. “What does that mean? Which part?”

“I’ve... I’ve done it too many times now.” His voice was rough. “When someone is the center of your life, and you make them your bedrock. And everything they say is like scripture. And then they betray you, and you’re completely lost. Upended.”

“... Oh.”

“I don’t want that for you. It’s okay if you feel complicated. She was your hero. The Rika you knew wasn’t the one who hurt me, not necessarily. And anyway, it’s not like you to actually hate someone, especially not family. You can still cherish her, if you want to.”

Yoosung’s voice got low. “That’s terrible.”

“What?”

“That’s awful, Saeran. It would be so selfish for me to cherish the person who did those... awful, cruel things to you. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to. I love you too much for that.” A sharp exhale. “The Rika I knew and the Rika that hurt you are the same. And all of the beautiful things that she said, right or wrong, they came from that place, too. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but it’s the truth. People don’t just change like that, right? It’s not like she was....”

“... What?”

Silence.

“Brainwashed?”

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No. I get it.” A long pause. “I’m just worried about you, Yoosung.”

“You’re not the one who should be worried.”

“I am. I don’t want you to feel lost like I did.”

Yoosung squeezed his hand hard. “Well. Thank you for worrying. Um, can I ask? What did you do to get better? When you lost your... bedrock. How did you handle it?”

“Oh. Well I guess, over time, you just replace it.”

“What did you replace her with? Is it... Saeyoung, or...?”

“It’s not anyone.” A pause. “If anything, I guess it’s me.”

Silence.

Saeran continued. “I’m still learning how to trust people again. But I need to understand that trusting someone doesn’t mean making them my whole... life. Saeyoung was my savior growing up. And then Rika was. And I guess that next, it could have been you in that role.”

A heavy swallow.

“But I don’t want that for us, Yoosung. I don’t want to need you like that. I want you to rely on me just as much. And I want to be with you day after day, just because I love you and care about you. And no other reason.”

A pause. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I guess so. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. I also... talk about it with my sister-in-law. She knows a lot more than me about relationships. Healthy relationships.”

“I’m glad that you’re your own rock, Saeran. But you know you can rely on me, too, right? I _want_ you to rely on me.”

“... Thanks, Yoosung.”

“So... please tell me more of what you’re thinking. It won’t hurt me if you talk to me about Rika. I’m strong, too. I just want to be there for you.”

Silence.

“Saeran?”

Silence.

A squeeze of the hand.

“I stopped dreaming about her months ago. I’m starting to forget what her voice sounded like.”

“That’s... good?”

“It should be. But I still have the feeling that she’s working inside of me. Sometimes I see someone who looks like her, and it ruins my whole day. Or even when I hear certain phrases she used to use. It feels like a weight in my chest. I don’t know if that will ever go away.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“I hate that she’s your cousin. I wish you never had to be so involved in this.”

Yoosung rubbed his thumb in soft circles against the back of Saeran’s hand. “In some ways I wish that, too. But I’m also glad that we can understand each other, a little bit. Obviously I can’t compare my experience to yours, but....”

“Yeah. We both depended on her.”

“And she betrayed us both.”

Silence.

Silence.

“I really hate her, Yoosung.”

“I hate her, too.”

“God. I know I just said that I don’t want to need you too much, but I’d be so lost without you, you know that?”

“I understand. I’d be lost without you, too.”

“Do you... feel okay? After talking about this?”

“Y-yeah. Can I hold you?”

“Of course. Come here, come here.... It’ll be okay. We’re both okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're on Tumblr you may have seen this art I made last week: http://neighborhoodtom.tumblr.com/post/152436591708/
> 
> It was in my initial mental script for this chapter before my cartoonist brain kicked me and said "this interaction works better as a comic, dummy." Anyway, you can think of it as kind of an epilogue to this chapter, maybe they go downstairs and talk some more. I think joking around about these things is an important part of healing, too.


	15. first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this one is long. I hope it's okay that this one is so long.... As a content warning, this chapter contains some references to domestic abuse and neglect. It also gets a liiittle sexual but not really but I like to play it safe.

" _Tell me the square root of 125 in Arabic._ "

"Saeyoung? Saeran? Helloooo?"

" _Tell me the square root of 4,096 in Arabic._ "

"What?! Don't make the question harder.... Saeyoung, come open your gate!"

" _Tell me th-_ "

The gate's request was cut off abruptly as the sound of a latch clicked from inside. Yoosung, with his hands behind his back, straightened his posture. Slowly, the large metal door opened before him to the sight of Saeran, holding the heavy gate with both arms. "Come on," he said, motioning with his head. “I left something downstairs.”

“Okay!” Yoosung entered and heard the door shut behind him with a metallic slam. He never got used to coming through that talking gate, nor the fact that it opened straight onto an elevator. But he supposed that making a home four stories underground was the price a former intelligence agent paid to live safely. Standing at the center of the elevator, Yoosung turned his attention to Saeran. "It's so good to see you! I... I've been excited for this all week." He could feel his voice quivering.

Saeran hit a button that set the elevator moving downward, then gave Yoosung a tiny smile. "Me too," he said softly.

"I brought you something," Yoosung said, taking his hands out from behind his back to show Saeran the small plastic bag he'd been hiding. "I made you chocolates." When Saeran didn't move, he smiled. "Come on, take it!"

Saeran nervously extended his cupped hands to take the bag from Yoosung. "You made these?"

"I did!" Yoosung said. "I spent a long time trying to decide what gift to give you. I think that flowers are more traditional for a first date, but then I realized, I don't know if guys are supposed to give each other flowers? I feel like all the romance movies I watch didn't prepare me super well for having, um, a boyfriend. N-not that that's a bad thing! Anyway, I wasn't sure if you liked flowers, but I know that you like sweets, so I made you chocolate. They're not very good because it was my first attempt, but if you like them at all let me know, okay? I'll keep practicing so I can make you better ones. B-but if you don't like them, don’t feel like you have to eat them."

Yoosung took a large breath after he finished speaking. Looking up, he realized that Saeran was smiling softly. "What?"

"You're nervous?" Saeran said.

"Oh, hahah." He rubbed his neck. "I guess so. Sorry if I was rambling."

Saeran stepped forward to stand directly in front of Yoosung, whose heart rate immediately quickened at their closeness. For a moment, Saeran looked like he was contemplating a kiss, but then he ducked his head and settled on taking Yoosung’s hand. “Thank you.”

Yoosung felt his chest erupt with warmth. Saeran’s eyes were tracing the ground at their feet, his cheeks a light shade of pink. He was holding the bag of chocolates in one hand against his chest. How could anyone be this cute?

But up close, Yoosung also noticed something else. “Your eyes look tired,” he said. “Have you been sleeping badly?”

“Oh.” The elevator finally touched down, and the doors pulled open. Letting go of Yoosung’s hand, Saeran stepped out into the living room. “No, I’m fine.”

They were both silent as they exited the elevator. Although he wanted the truth, Yoosung decided not to press the issue. If he himself had been up late the night before, whether due to insomnia or LOLOL, he wouldn’t want that to be a discussion topic on their first date, either. Instead, Yoosung smiled. “You look nice.”

Saeran crossed his arms. “Oh. I didn’t dress up....”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to!” Yoosung gestured at his own outfit. “Mine’s not nice either. I just picked a shirt with buttons. And... I really like the sweater that you’re wearing.”

“Yeah?” Saeran said, now pulling at the neckline of his gray sweater.

“Mm-hm. It’s a little big on you, and that makes it really cute.”

Saeran turned away to hide his smile.

Remembering where they were, Yoosung looked around. “Hey, where’s Saeyoung?”

“Not home. They decided to go on a date, too, since....”

Yoosung got the idea. “So what did you leave down here? Um, I don’t want to rush you or anything. But there’s a movie I want to take you to if you’re interested, so we should leave pretty soon.”

“Right. Stay here.” Saeran headed toward his bedroom.

Watching him go, a tiny caution bell signaled in the back of Yoosung’s mind. His movements look weaker, don’t they? His steps are shaky? But Saeran was down the hallway before the thought could fully form.

Instead, Yoosung started thinking eagerly about the date he had planned. He was most looking forward to taking Saeran for ice cream. He’d fantasized about it for a while now, holding hands and ordering their ice cream cones and watching Saeran enjoy his favorite food. It was a little embarrassing, he realized. Of all the things to fantasize about in a new relationship, of all the activities they’d get to enjoy together, he was most hung up on ice cream.

Yoosung’s thoughts were cut off by a loud sound in the other room. It was a thump, like something heavy hitting the floor. “Saeran?” he called, already in motion. “Are you okay?”

Saeran’s door was hanging open. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside his bed, one hand clutching his bedspread. At first glance, he seemed okay—Yoosung was about to ask why he sat down—but on closer inspection, it became clear that he was breathing quickly, and the intensifying redness on his face was not normal.

“S-Saeran...?” Yoosung joined him on the floor, putting a hand on his back in case he was having trouble sitting up. He felt Saeran’s forehead with the back of his other hand. “Oh my god! You’re burning up!”

He could now feel Saeran’s slight trembling below his fingertips as his body hunched over further, too weak to sit up fully.

Putting a hand below Saeran’s arm, Yoosung tugged gently to prepare him to stand. “I’m going to help you onto the bed, okay?”

Saeran nodded silently, his eyes shut tight. With Yoosung’s assistance, he lifted slowly onto two feet, his legs quaking beneath him. He stood only long enough to get in position and fall onto his mattress. Yoosung helped him readjust so he could lie flat on his back, a pillow below his head. Feeling Saeran’s forehead once more and again shocked by the heat, Yoosung tried to keep his voice calm.

“I’m going to go get you some water, okay? Water and, um, Caspirin. And... do you need anything else? No, wait, let’s start with the water.”

Yoosung rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a clean-looking glass on the counter, then turned to fill it under the sink. As the water poured, his thoughts moved rapidly. Saeran had a bad immune system. Was a fever dangerous for someone with a bad immune system? Would he need a doctor?

After finding an oral thermometer and a bottle of Caspirin in the bathroom medicine cabinet, Yoosung returned to Saeran’s room.

“Wha- Saeran, why are you sitting up?! Lie down!”

Saeran reached a weak hand outward toward the glass of water. “Need to sit up to drink,” he said.

“Okay, but....” Yoosung let his voice trail off. He wrapped one arm around Saeran and used the other to help him with the glass of water. After he’d drunk half, Yoosung gave him the pills and helped him wash those down.

“There,” Yoosung said. “Now will you please lie down?”

Saeran nodded, sinking backwards onto the bed. Noticing that his hair was in his eyes, Yoosung pushed it backwards, finding that his forehead was already dampened with sweat. “I’m going to take your temperature, okay?”

Saeran glared hard at the object that Yoosung brought over. “What’s that.”

“What’s... _this_? The thermometer?”

“Oh.”

Yoosung frowned. “Have you... never used a thermometer before?”

Saeran’s eyes were closed. He didn’t answer.

“That’s so....” Yoosung stopped himself, trying to put a half dozen forming observations on hold. “I’m going to use this to measure your body temperature. All you have to do is open your mouth and let me put it under your tongue.”

After a brief pause, Saeran complied, closing his lips around the glass tube.

“Good. Now we just have to wait and see what it says.”

Saeran kept his eyes closed. His eyebrows were furrowed hard.

Yoosung tried to think of something to say that didn’t involve asking questions. “I’m going to take care of you, so just don’t worry. Gosh, you scared me though.... Ah, but still, don’t worry! You’ll be fine soon, and I’ll stay here as long as you need me.”

Saeran didn’t respond. He didn’t give any indication that he was listening.

Yoosung watched beads of sweat form around his neckline. “Do you think you should take that heavy sweater off? I can go grab you a t-shirt.”

Eyes still closed, Saeran lifted up the bottom of his sweater to show the tanktop he was wearing underneath. With Yoosung’s help, he sat up slightly to pull the heavy woolen sweater over his head. “Thanks,” he finally managed to say, speech distorted with the thermometer in his mouth.

It wasn’t often that Yoosung got to see Saeran’s bare arms. They were milky white from lack of exposure, in stark contrast with the black of his tattoos. Up close, it was easy to see all of the _other_ marks on his arms, too—tiny old scars like white flecks of paint. Thankfully Saeran never seemed self-conscious on occasions when when Yoosung saw his arms. But Yoosung, taking in the catalogue of evidence before him, evidence all hinting at abuse and coercion, felt somewhat overwhelmed. He returned his attention to the task at hand.

Saeran’s fever clocked in at barely 102 degrees—hot enough to be concerning, not hot enough to warrant a hospital visit. “We’ll check it again later,” Yoosung said, shaking off the thermometer as he’d seen his mom do before. Remembering his mom, Yoosung had an idea. “You should take a bath.”

Saeran’s eyes were open by now, and he seemed altogether more responsive. “Huh?”

“Oh, I mean.... It’s just something my mom used to do when I got a fever. She’d run me a cool bath. Not cold, just room temperature. I think it’s supposed to help the fever break?”

Saeran spent a moment in silence. Then he put his arms down, trying to pull himself up.

“Careful,” Yoosung said. “So you’ll come take a bath?”

“If it helps. I’ll give myself one.”

Yoosung put a hand on Saeran’s back, trying to help him sit comfortably. “Yourself? I really think I should help you right now....” His face flushed as he realized what he was saying. “Oh my god, please don’t take that the wrong way! Y-you don’t have to be, like, na... _undressed_ or anything. I just want to-”

“S’fine. I can do it.” Saeran wiggled toward the edge of the bed. He extended his feet toward the ground, tried to calibrate his balance by the feeling of his toes on the floor, and slowly lowered himself. He immediately stumbled forward.

Yoosung was there to catch Saeran in his arms. With one hand on his back and one reached around to his shoulder blade, he helped Saeran stabilize himself. Holding him this closely, Yoosung took in a tiny awed breath, feeling how their bodies fit so naturally together. But there were other things to focus on right now.

“Please let me help you?”

“... ‘kay.”

 

 

Saeyoung’s bathroom was nice. In general, his home design seemed to follow a rule of “expensive items in tacky arrangements.” But the bathroom was something you’d see in a home design catalogue, all whites and soft blues, with a deep-basin tub built into the corner. Though windowless, the overhead lamps tried to mimic natural lighting. The only evidence that Saeyoung lived here was the towels. They were assorted loud colors, some with racecars or cartoon characters on them. Of course.

Yoosung stuck his hand in the water, watching the tub fill slowly. “I think the temperature is good. Do you want to feel it?” He turned to Saeran, who was seated hunched over on the toilet. He shook his head.

The sound of rushing water filling the room, Yoosung crawled across the floor to sit at Saeran’s side. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Saeran said weakly.

Yoosung stared at Saeran’s hands, both resting on his knees, and briefly considered taking one of them. He kept talking instead. “I’m really glad I could be here to help you.”

“... Sorry.” It was practically a whisper.

Yoosung frowned. “Sorry for what?”

Saeran stared at the floor.

“You’re sorry... about our date?”

He shrugged.

Moving himself across the floor so that Saeran looked him in the eyes, Yoosung smiled reassuringly. “I don’t mind any of that. I still get to spend time with you. And the ice cream shop will still be there next week.”

Saeran’s eyebrows raised. “We were going to get ice cream?”

Yoosung covered his mouth. “Ahh! I let it slip....” He looked up at his boyfriend and, for a moment, was taken aback. Though he was still red-faced and trembling, Saeran’s expression had turned into a calm but uncharacteristically bright smile. After a few seconds, Saeran turned his head and pressed a hand against his face, as though suddenly aware and embarrassed of his expression.

Yoosung felt like he’d just seen a shooting star.

“Is the tub ready?” Saeran’s voice, still weak, was muffled by his hand.

“Oh!” Yoosung scrambled across the tile floor and grabbed the faucet handles. “It’s actually perfectly filled. Thank god!”

He turned around to find that Saeran was already on his feet, eyes glossy, holding himself up with the counter top.

Yoosung jumped to his feet. “Woah! Be careful.... Please, let me-”

“I got it,” Saeran said, holding out one shaky hand. With that, he took off his tank top, unbuttoned his jeans, and dropped them to the floor.

Fixing his gaze on the light switch on the other side of the room, Yoosung tried not to watch Saeran undress, tried not to think too hard about the fact that his boyfriend was now standing four feet away in nothing but his boxers. This was all innocent. All clinical. He was Doctor Yoosung right now, and there was no room for sexual tension.

“Hey.”

Doctor Yoosung glanced over and realized Saeran was holding out one hand, asking for help. “Oh! Sorry.” Yoosung took it, wrapping his other arm around Saeran’s back as they crossed the room together. As Saeran stepped into the tub, Yoosung put both hands under his arms, spotting him gently. He realized fleetingly that his boyfriend was too sick to be shy about his body, but not too sick to be shy about his smile. Then again, maybe the sickness had nothing to do with it.

As soon as Saeran was in the water, he curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees. His back was to Yoosung, who sat at the end of the tub.

“Not too cold?” Yoosung said.

“No. Um, thank you for helping.”

Yoosung only smiled.

Now that Saeran had settled in, Yoosung finally had the chance to glance at his body. He was nervous just seconds before, but here Yoosung realized that looking at Saeran this way... there really _wasn’t_ anything sexual about it. Not to say that Saeran wasn’t attractive—Yoosung knew little about his attraction to men, but he decided that Saeran’s long, narrow frame was distinctively “his type.”

But even seeing his exposed skin and the shape of his body up close, the moment was decidedly chaste. Yoosung knew what lusting for Saeran was like, but in this situation, the warmth Yoosung felt was in his chest and throat alone. He wanted to care for Saeran. He wanted to hold him. Someday, he wanted to kiss every tiny white scar on Saeran’s back.

“I want to wash your hair.” The words came out automatically.

“Huh?”

Yoosung inhaled sharply. He really said that, didn’t he? But still, he meant it. “Can I wash your hair for you?”

Saeran bowed his head. Yoosung wondered what expression he could be making toward the question. Finally, Saeran nodded.

After rolling up his sleeves, picking a bottle of shampoo, and finding a drinking glass beside the sink, Yoosung sat behind Saeran and took in a breath. He felt like he was fulfilling a deep fantasy he’d held for years, not some whim he settled on two minutes ago. This was so weird. Ignoring any question in his mind, Yoosung dipped the cup into the bath water.

“Look up, please?”

Saeran followed Yoosung’s instructions, and Yoosung poured the water down Saeran’s hair, careful not to get any in his eyes. He repeated this a few times, watching the way Saeran’s wavy hair darkened and flattened out under the water.

“Okay, you can lower your head,” Yoosung said once Saeran’s hair seemed wet enough. Next, he took the bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his hand. Capping the bottle on his thigh, Yoosung pulled himself up to get a good look at Saeran’s head.

The shampoo was cold when it met Saeran’s scalp, but it warmed quickly under Yoosung’s hands. Careful not to miss a spot, Yoosung delighted at the feeling of running his hands through his hair. He realized, then, that Saeran’s neck was covered in goosebumps. Maybe it was just the fever. But maybe he liked this, too?

“I’ve never done this to anyone else before,” Yoosung mused as he worked.

“Mm.” Saeran was quiet for a few moments. “No one’s ever washed my hair for me before,” he said softly.

Yoosung stopped. “Wait, really?”

Saeran shrugged. “Not that I can remember, at least....”

When his voice trailed off, Yoosung continued to lather the shampoo into Saeran’s hair. Yoosung couldn’t remember many baths he had as a little kid, but he knew that for each one, someone was there to wash his hair for him. But of course Saeran wouldn’t have had that, would he?

“I’m glad I could do this for you, then,” Yoosung said, his tone unconvincing.

Yoosung felt stupid. He knew well enough about Saeran’s past, at least as far as his mother was concerned. But still, each time he was confronted with details of this reality, he felt baffled by them. He had to readjust his understanding of what a childhood could be. And he always made his stupid assumptions obvious to Saeran, which certainly couldn’t feel good for him.

He wished there were a manual for this. Any of it. For Being A Boy Dating A Boy, first of all. And then one for Being A Boy Dating A Boy With Scars On His Body And Bad Nightmares And So Many Secrets, And All You Want To Do Is Help But He Barely Speaks And Also You Think He Might Have The Flu.

Saeran’s hair full of shampoo, Yoosung rinsed his hands in the bathwater and grabbed the drinking glass again. Saeran looked up without being asked this time, and Yoosung began rinsing his hair. He worked in silence.

“It feels nice,” Saeran said suddenly. It just occurred to Yoosung that Saeran’s voice had relaxed, his tone calm and warm. His shaking had stopped.

“I’m glad,” Yoosung said. After pouring another cup full of water down Saeran’s hair, he stopped to leave a kiss on the base of his neck. Then he continued.

Saeran said something, his voice less than a whisper. But it sounded something like, “You’re so kind.”

His eyebrows furrowed sadly, Yoosung smiled.

Maybe he was doing okay.

 

 

Yoosung got the opportunity that night to make Saeran dinner. After raiding the family’s fairly sparse fridge, Yoosung settled on preparing him a sandwich. Saeran’s fever had subsided, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite. Yoosung cut the sandwich into nine small squares before placing them on the coffee table in front of his boyfriend, telling him with a smile, “Just eat as many as you can, okay?”

Even though it was something as simple as a sandwich, watching Saeran eat food he prepared made Yoosung’s heart melt. He decided that he never wanted to stop.

As they ate, Yoosung and Saeran put on a movie to watch from the couch. Saeran was bundled up in a thick blanket, while Yoosung wrapped his arms around it, resting his head on Saeran’s shoulder. “Tell me when you want your sandwich and I’ll move,” he said, squeezing tightly. Saeran let out a small laugh.

With the lights turned off and his boyfriend in his arms, Yoosung felt so warm. He couldn’t even focus on the movie. He waited until a scene with no dialogue to speak. “I’m so happy, Saeran.”

“... Me too.”

“It’s bad that you got really sick today, so I’m sorry for saying this. But I think this was such a good date. The best date.”

Saeran didn't respond, but he kissed the top of Yoosung’s head.

They suddenly heard the sound of the elevator touching down, and the doors across the room opened. The other couple’s voices got louder as they entered the room, one of them flipping on the light switch.

“Why was it so dark in here?” she said.

Yoosung rubbed his eyes. “We were watching a movie. Welcome back!”

“Oh hoh!” Saeyoung approached them and stood behind the couch, rubbing their hair a little too roughly. “A date night in, huh? How.... Hm? Why is your hair wet?”

“Washed it,” Saeran said. “I’m sick.”

“I think he has the flu,” Yoosung added, still holding Saeran in his arms.

“Oh, no!” Saeyoung said, now with a genuine look of worry. “How are you feeling now? Is it bad? Do you need medicine?”

“I’m fine,” Saeran said curtly, staring at the TV screen. “Nauseated, but only since you walked in.” Yoosung laughed.

Saeyoung ignored the slight and turned to his fiancee. “My love, my dear brother is sick! What should we do?”

“We’ll have to keep him warm!” she said. “That’s so important!”

“You’re right!”

“ _What?_ ”

Before he could prepare himself, both of Saeran’s housemates were at the sides of the couch, throwing their arms around him. “Jesus, _fuck_!” he exclaimed, suddenly finding himself the center of a four-way group hug.

“I love you, my sweet brother! Please don’t die!”

“Um, Saeyoung, that’s a little....”

“I’m not dying, idiot.”

“He’s right! You can’t die, Saeran. You still have to be in our wedding!”

“Right! You need to be well to travel to space for our wedding!”

“Shut up about your space wedding already.”

As the other couple’s cries continued, Yoosung leaned in to whisper in Saeran’s ear. “Next time we’ll do this at my place.”

Saeran gave him a tiny grateful smile. He could only handle so much love at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I could, since it's nice and relatively happy and lots of people need that right now. In that vein I also made some reeeeally sappy Yooran art. You might have seen it if you're on Tumblr, but if not, here you go: http://neighborhoodtom.tumblr.com/post/152988830963/
> 
> It has nothing to do with this chapter but I thought you guys would like it anyway!


	16. do this together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: There is sex in this one. You can skip it without missing anything plot important!
> 
> Ha... ha ha... I've never written a sex scene before (except for some practice I did leading up to this) so I hope it's......... ok.

“There’s something on your mind.”

Yoosung had been uncharacteristically quiet all evening. There was a textbook in his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. Instead, he seemed to be gazing across the living room of his apartment at nothing in particular, his eyebrows furrowed somewhat, his cheeks slightly red. There was something intense about that glare, but as soon as Saeran remarked on it, Yoosung snapped to attention.

“Hm?” He glanced over at Saeran on the other end of the couch, who was holding a cup of tea with a blanket draped over his lower body. Yoosung stared at the mug in his boyfriend’s hands. “Oh. No. I’m just spaced out.”

Saeran put his tea down on the coffee table. Yoosung’s gaze followed the mug and fixated on it, even as Saeran scooted closer to him. “It’s not like you not to tell me things,” he observed, hoping his tone sounded casual instead of worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really! I mean it. I’ve just been....” His voice trailed off.

“Been what?”

Sighing, Yoosung finally made eye contact with Saeran. His gaze was nervous, solemn, and... something else. “Can I ask you a serious question? And if it makes you uncomfortable, please tell me.”

“Okay,” Saeran said, his throat tense.

Yoosung’s eyes flickered around the room, then back at Saeran. “Are you... attracted to me?”

Unintentionally, Saeran’s face formed a confused half-smile. “ _That’s_ your question?”

Yoosung nodded.

“I mean... yes. Of course. Why do you…?”

“I didn’t ask it right,” Yoosung said abruptly. “What I meant is... are you attracted to me, s-sexually.”

Saeran’s face got hot. “Oh.”

Yoosung said nothing, maintaining his eye contact.

“Yeah, I am.” He forced the honest answer, knowing that any hesitation would be read as dishonesty.

Practically sighing with relief, Yoosung ran a hand through his hair. “Thank god! I was so nervous. I really wasn’t sure.”

“Wait, _how_?” Saeran tried to think back over four months of their relationship all at once, hoping to understand where the confusion manifested. He complimented Yoosung’s appearance enough, right? He was appropriately engaged when they made out?

Yoosung shrugged. “You’ve just never tried to, um, initiate anything. I thought you might be... well, if not unattracted to me, then maybe just uninterested in... in sex?”

“You never initiated anything, either,” Saeran pointed out.

“I- I thought that _you_ should!” Yoosung said. “I’m sorry. I think I was just scared of pressuring you before you were ready.”

“Oh.”

Yoosung rubbed his neck. “Was that dumb of me?”

“No,” Saeran said. “Admittedly, I don’t know if I am. Ready.”

Yoosung’s expression changed. “O-Okay,” he said quickly, “we don’t have to-”

“I’m scared.”

Yoosung halted, his mouth still open. Saeran had forced out the words, staring at the corner, desperate not to let the conversation close. Who knew when they would talk about this again?

“Scared of what, Saeran?”

He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.

“Please tell me?” Yoosung said softly, putting a hand on Saeran’s blanketed knee.

Saeran opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “I don’t want to hurt you. And I’ve never.... It’s not that I don’t _want_ it. I just don’t know what will happen if I... lose control of my thoughts.”

“You’re afraid to hurt me,” Yoosung said. “Physically, you mean?”

Saeran nodded, sinking lower in his seat.

“Oh! Oh, sweetie.” Yoosung sighed, embracing Saeran around his neck. “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that! You’re so gentle. How could you ever hurt me?”

Saeran shifted under the weight of Yoosung’s arms, and his head on his shoulder. “I’m no stranger to hurting people, Yoosung. I don’t know what will happen."

Pulling away to look in Saeran’s eyes, Yoosung frowned. “So you’ve been holding yourself back because of that?”

Had he? Saeran couldn’t imagine initiating sex with Yoosung regardless of this particular anxiety. He nodded anyway, deciding it was true enough.

Yoosung put his hands on either side of Saeran’s face. Those warm hands pressed onto his cheeks and jaw, firm but gentle. Saeran met his boyfriend’s intense gaze as he spoke. “You don’t have to be scared, Saeran. We can ease into things. Do you... want to know what I want, more than anything?”

His muscles feeling suddenly weak, Saeran nodded. He realized that he could now recognize the mysterious, intense emotion in Yoosung’s eyes, and he swallowed hard thinking of what could follow it.

“Are you sure you want to know? It might sound intense.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to please you,” Yoosung said, his face bright red. “I want to make you feel good. I want you to feel better than you’ve ever felt before, and I want to know th-that I was the one who did it. That’s all I think about.” He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to do anything. If you’re scared to hurt me, you don’t even have to put your hands on me. Let me do everything.”

If his muscles were weak before, now they were gone. Disappeared. Saeran’s head swam, his breath caught in his throat. It felt as though only Yoosung’s grip on his face was keeping him upright.

“Can I?” Yoosung said, his normally-innocent voice taking on a tone of rough desperation. “Will you let me?”

Without hesitation, Saeran returned a shaking nod.

  


They had moved to Yoosung’s bedroom wordlessly, hands clasped together. Once on the bed, sitting up on their knees, they had spent a moment just staring at one another, neither quite sure what to do. So they started kissing, hesitantly letting their hands wander to places they’d avoided before. Saeran jolted a tiny bit as he felt Yoosung’s hand slide into his back pocket.

Yoosung broke away from their kiss. “Wait a second,” he said, breathing heavily. “Is this really okay? We can stop if you-”

“It’s okay,” Saeran said, leaning back in. “Please don’t stop.”

They kissed only briefly before Yoosung broke away again, this time moving to Saeran’s neck, leaving small bites above his collar. Saeran realized that Yoosung was shaking, clumsy and nervous as he gripped the bottom hem of Saeran’s shirt. But there was something intense about his movements, too. Focused and desperate. Saeran pushed up on one of his hands, giving the okay to lift off his shirt.

At this point Yoosung paused, staring for a moment at Saeran’s bare chest, eyelashes fluttering. Saeran could only imagine how he must have looked--thin, pale, wounded here and there. Before the moment of stillness grew too long, Yoosung leaned down to leave fast, soft kisses below his collarbones. It was such an innocent, loving gesture, Saeran couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re so perfect,” Yoosung whispered against his skin.

Saeran’s heart could have stopped in that moment, and he would have died happy.

Yoosung pulled away and took the hem of his own t-shirt. “Can I...?”

“Go ahead.”

The shirt was off and on the floor. Yoosung was somehow leaner than his boyfriend, but he also had more of a belly. After dropping the shirt, he put his hands in his lap, glancing at them nervously. Saeran reached out to run his hands down Yoosung’s chest and smiled, a gesture of reassurance.

It was enough. Eagerly Yoosung returned to their kiss. The slow moments were nice, necessary, but he was also growing impatient, hungry to see a new side of Saeran, a new set of reactions. After months of anticipation, his shy disposition had little sway over his actions anymore. Yoosung’s hands latched onto Saeran’s hips. He deepened their kiss, leaning forward, encouraging Saeran to fall backwards until they were lying flat on the bed, Yoosung pressed against his boyfriend’s chest, Saeran’s legs straddling his hips, hands gripping tightly in his hair.

Yoosung experimentally ran a thumb around one of Saeran’s nipples, pleased by the pleasured gasp it earned him. He broke their kiss and latched back onto the sensitive part of Saeran’s neck, unwilling to muffle the involuntary noises his boyfriend might emit. He wanted to hear all of them. Sure enough, Saeran released a strangled whine as Yoosung repositioned himself, deliberately grinding their hips together. Yoosung blushed, but he wanted more.

He rocked his hips again, drawing a soft moan from Saeran’s lips. Saeran covered his mouth, embarrassed by the involuntary noise. He really couldn’t help it, could he? Yoosung grinned like he’d just discovered a new game. He continued rocking his hips, as slowly as he could manage, ridiculously pleased by the muffled chorus of quiet groans he earned in response.

But... oh. He needed to stop. The sounds and feelings were too much for him, his pace getting harder to control. Any further, and he might not be able to hold back. And this night wasn’t about his pleasure—it was about Saeran.

Saeran emitted a short whine as Yoosung lifted his hips, creating distance between them. Yoosung ran a hand down Saeran’s belly, stopping just above his waistband.

“Can I-?”

“Yes,” Saeran said between shallow breaths. His eyes were shut tight. “Whatever you’re going to ask, just do it.”

Yoosung smiled, feeling giddy. He glided a hand over Saeran’s jeans, found his erection, and rubbed his palm against it

“ _Ahh-_!”

Yoosung froze, staring at his boyfriend’s face. “I-I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Face red, Saeran stared across the room. “No,” he said. “It... just slipped out. Sorry.”

“Oh!” Yoosung was smiling again. “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“C... can I take my pants off? It’s... tight.”

“Of course.”

Yoosung moved out of the way so that Saeran could remove his jeans. He tossed them aside. Eyes wide, Yoosung took in the sight of Saeran’s erection, leaking precum into his gray boxer briefs. He felt a bizarre sense of pride, knowing that this was his handiwork.

“You’re staring,” Saeran said, covering his face partially with one hand.

“Sorry,” Yoosung said absentmindedly. He was thinking hard about how to proceed. There was something he’d fantasized about a bit. Something really tame, but... maybe it was still too awkward.

“Is something wrong?”

Yoosung shook his head, resolving to proceed. “Can you do something for me?”

“Sure.” Saeran lifted onto his elbows.

“Can you sit right here? On the edge of the bed?”

Saeran followed his instructions silently, a curious look on his face.

Yoosung stepped off of the bed and positioned himself in front of Saeran, getting onto his knees.

Watching Yoosung kneel onto the hardwood floor, still in his jeans, Saeran tensed up. His face flushed. Yoosung had this expression, looking up at Saeran through his eyelashes, so meek and so innocent. He looked loving and subservient all at once.

“A-Are you sure...?”

“Yes,” Yoosung said, latching his fingers onto the waistband of Saeran’s boxers. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

Yoosung carefully pulled down Saeran’s boxers and dropped them to the floor. He smiled.

“Did I mention that you’re perfect?”

Saeran put a hand over his face, trying to think of something else. He was getting way too worked up, way too early. Spotting the pillow at the head of Yoosung’s bed, he reached over and tossed it onto the floor.

“What’s-?”

“For your knees,” Saeran said. “They must hurt.”

Yoosung smiled. He pulled the pillow over and positioned himself on top of it. “There,” he said. “Nice and comfy.”

“Good.”

Without warning, Yoosung took Saeran in his mouth, drawing out a sharp gasp. After taking a moment to adjust and position himself, Yoosung started bobbing his head, clutching the edge of the mattress to steady himself.

Saeran grasped Yoosung’s bedspread, his body tense. He couldn’t look at Yoosung, so sweet and angelic, it made him feel _wrong_ and also like he might come instantly. Instead he focused on the feeling of Yoosung’s mouth around him, his tongue swirling around randomly, like he was trying to figure out what to do with it. And he focused on trying to withhold the sounds bubbling up in his throat.

As Saeran felt himself reaching the edge, Yoosung’s movements slowed, until suddenly he pulled away. Saeran’s eyes flickered open. “What’s wrong?”

“You look really... stressed out,” Yoosung said, eyes wide and full of concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh. S-sorry.” Saeran turned his head. “I guess I’m just trying to... control myself.”

Yoosung shook his head. “Don’t try so hard. I don’t know what you’re holding back, but there’s no way for you to hurt me like this.”

Saeran fell silent, clutching the bedspread a bit tighter.

“Here.” Yoosung put a hand on one of Saeran’s fists, urging him to release his grip. He took this hand and rested it gently on top of his own head. He smiled. “Can we do this together?”

Stroking Yoosung’s soft hair, Saeran felt calm. Yoosung was so warm, gentle, sweet. Saeran was none of these things, at least not naturally. But contact with Yoosung... it was infectious. He was radiant. Saeran felt like he could be gentle, too.

He nodded.

When Yoosung continued, Saeran closed his eyes again, focused on the feeling of Yoosung’s hair, his quick bobbing motions, the pleasure building in his own body. Saeran pet his boyfriend’s head gently, hoping it showed his appreciation. When a groan rose up in his throat, he didn’t hold it back.

“ _Ahh-_ ! Hahh.... Oh, _fuck_....”

Though embarrassed, he could feel the slight curl of Yoosung’s mouth trying to form a smile. If Yoosung liked this, then maybe it was okay. His voice grew more ragged the further they went, breath quickening. With his head swimming, Saeran lost track of the sounds he was making, had to grip Yoosung’s hair to keep his hand on his head at all. All he knew for sure was that, when he finally released, he was moaning something that sounded like Yoosung’s name.

There were swirling white stars behind Saeran’s eyelids. When he finally opened his eyes, Yoosung was already standing beside him, trying to hold back a grin. How many seconds had he just missed?

“I love you, Yoosung.” His voice was breathy and weak.

“I love you, too. Why don’t you lie down?”

Saeran flopped onto his side, then rolled onto his back. Yoosung laughed.

“Oh my god, you’re so out of it. It’s like you’re drunk.”

Saeran frowned. “I don’t drink.”

“I know,” Yoosung said gently. He moved to the foot of the bed so he could crawl beside Saeran and lie down. “So that was okay? You liked it?”

He nodded slowly. “I really, really liked it.”

“I’m so glad. I read a bunch of articles online about how to do that, but I think in the moment, I just went with it.”

Saeran chuckled. He decided not to make fun of Yoosung for reading instructional articles on oral sex. Not during the afterglow. Abruptly, a thought came over him, and he opened his eyes. “It’s your turn,” Saeran said.

“What? Nooo!” Yoosung got up on one elbow. “You don’t have to, remember? I said I only wanted to make _you_ feel good.”

“I changed my mind.” Saeran started to sit up. “Now I want to.”

Yoosung frowned. “Please don’t feel pressured. It’s really okay if you don’t-”

He stopped. Saeran had put one hand on his chest, pushing him gently onto his back. Yoosung felt the bare palm pinned to his chest. He looked up at Saeran, whose eyes were intense and pleading.

“I want to,” he said.

Automatically, Yoosung reached down to remove his jeans. They were getting tight again, anyway.

“Where should I sit?” Yoosung asked.

It was an odd question, but without even thinking about it, Saeran’s mind produced an answer. He pointed to the headboard of Yoosung’s bed. “Right there. Sit there for me.”

Yoosung sat up against the headboard, his knees bent. “Like this?”

“Yes.” Saeran stretched Yoosung’s legs to the sides to make room for him. He got as close as he could, Yoosung’s legs straddling his waist. “Is this comfortable?”

Yoosung nodded. His eyes were wide, full of anticipation and wonder. He looked so cute. Saeran gave him a small kiss, then pulled away. Then he leaned back in for a deeper one.

“ _Mmph_!” Yoosung moaned into Saeran’s mouth, their tongues making brief contact. Saeran moved his hands down Yoosung’s torso, stopping to touch his nipples. Yoosung only whined in response to this, bucking his hips impatiently. Saeran smiled into their kiss. He supposed he’d kept him waiting long enough.

Saeran palmed Yoosung’s erection through his boxers, and immediately, Yoosung threw back his head, gasping sharply. As Saeran stroked his length, Yoosung breathed heavily, his eyebrows knit together. Since kissing was out of the question, Saeran started biting and sucking his neck, hoping to leave obvious marks.

Yoosung’s feet lifted off the bed and latched around Saeran’s back. “Feels good,” he breathed.

Saeran reach for Yoosung’s waistband, but was stopped by a grip on his wrist.

“Can... we stay like this?” Yoosung said breathlessly. “Just like this.”

Saeran tilted his head. “What’s wrong? Are you shy about-”

Yoosung shook his head vigorously. “No, no! This is just perfect. You right here. I don’t want to move at all.”

Saeran paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” He rested one arm against the headboard, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, then grabbed Yoosung through his boxers, making him squirm. “Okay....”

The angle made his arm cramp up, and he wasn’t sure how good this felt through a layer of cloth. But Yoosung seemed to be enjoying it just fine, panting and whimpering, his heels pressing harder into Saeran’s back. Saeran just watched his face, his overwhelmed expressions. At one point, Yoosung opened his eyes, meeting Saeran’s intense gaze just inches from his face, and he let out a shuddering sigh. Saeran could feel his breath on his face.

“I’m... I’m getting close....”

“Go ahead,” Saeran whispered, picking up speed.

“Nngh!” Yoosung tensed up, nearly reaching his limit.

The look on his face.... Saeran’s heart couldn’t take much more of this. He leaned into Yoosung’s ear, speaking softly. “Go on. For me.”

That did it. Yoosung released a sharp whine, lifting his hips involuntarily to grind them against Saeran’s hand. Then he collapsed, letting his feet fall back on the bed. He breathed heavy, his eyes half-closed.

Saeran brushed the hair out of Yoosung’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you.” Looking down, he restrained a laugh. “You ruined these boxers, though.”

“Don’t care,” Yoosung said. “Worth it.”

After navigating around Yoosung’s legs to sit at his side, Saeran leaned his shoulder against the headboard. “Let’s not make a habit of it, though.”

Yoosung’s eyebrows raised at the remark. He was absorbing the implication, no, the _simple truth_ that they’d be doing this again. Maybe often? Suddenly full of energy, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“Saeran! I’m so happy.”

Holding his waist, Saeran smiled into Yoosung’s neck. “Me too.”

Yoosung ran a hand through Saeran’s hair, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper. “I feel so close to you.”

“Me too, Yoosung.”

He sighed. “No one else makes me feel like you do.”

“I should hope not.” Saeran smirked.

“No, I mean- Not just in physical ways. In every way, you’re so special to me.”

“I know what you meant. I feel that, too. We should, um, clean you up, though. Then we can go to sleep, okay?”

Yoosung nodded. “We’ll sleep. And then we can do this again in the morning?”

Saeran laughed. “Maybe.... Yeah, probably.”


	17. in public

Yoosung picked a comic book off of the shelf. “Oh, this series! I haven’t been able to find it in ages. I must be so many volumes behind....”

Saeran glanced briefly up and down the aisle of the comic book shop which, on this Monday evening, was completely deserted. Satisfied that no one was looking, he rested his chin on Yoosung’s shoulder. “What is it?”

Yoosung hunched over a bit. “Oh... it’s more romance. Do you think I read too much of it?” He knew what the answer would be, but he still liked to hear it.

“No,” Saeran said, shaking his head softly against Yoosung’s hair, placing one hand on his hip. “I like that about you.”

Yoosung smiled. “You’re sweet. I think I left off here, so.... Augh, I can’t afford to buy everything I’ve missed. Maybe I’ll just get-”

“I can buy them for you.”

He turned to look at Saeran, head tilted. “Can _you_ afford them?”

“Sure. Saeyoung pays me to help build his toys.” He smiled. “Let me buy them.”

Yoosung hummed softly. He felt like he should protest, but.... “Okay. But next time, I’ll get something nice for _you_ , okay?”

At that moment, the bell on the shop’s door signalled the entrance of a group of young people, possibly college students, Saeran guessed by their ages and manner of dress. He straightened his back reflexively, taking his chin off of Yoosung’s shoulder and moving about a foot to his side. (Yoosung sighed as he left, pouting a bit to himself.)

“Are you getting anything for yourself, Saeran?”

“I don’t think so.” Saeran was picking at his fingernails. “If you’re done, I think we should....”

“Yoosung Kim!”

Yoosung spun around at the sound of his name. A tall, fashionable-looking girl, seemingly about his age, broke off from the larger group to approach him. Saeran hugged his arms against his chest, letting his hair fall in his face.

“Soobin!” Yoosung stretched out his arms to exchange a hug with her.

Saeran bit the inside of his lip, watching from a few feet away. An unfamiliar feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He watched their hug, however brief, with a strange intensity. She’s pretty, he thought, then berated himself for thinking it. He had a slight feeling for where this train of thought was headed, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Deep in contemplation, Saeran was startled when he realized that this girl was staring directly at him.

“Yoosung,” she said, “is this who I think it is?”

Saeran clutched the hem of his sweater, wishing he could turn invisible under her gaze.

Yoosung turned around to stand at Saeran’s side, then looped an arm around his boyfriend’s elbow. Normally Saeran would feel comforted by the contact, but here, he just felt that the magnifying glass was getting bigger. “It is!” Yoosung said, soundly slightly embarrassed. “Saeran, this is Soobin, one of my friends from school. And Soobin, this is Saeran, my boyfriend.”

She bowed slightly at this introduction, and Saeran forced himself to return the gesture. “It’s so nice to meet you!” she said, clasping her hands together. “Yoosung talks about you so much, I almost feel like we’ve already met.”

“H... he does?”

Noting his partner's wavering voice, Yoosung put a comforting hand around Saeran's forearm. "Um, I really wish I could stay and talk longer, but we were actually about to leave. I'll see you tomorrow, though!"

"Oh, okay! Bye, Yoosung." She waved. "And Saeran, it was nice to finally meet you."

"... Yeah." He turned stiffly, following Yoosung to the cashier.

Once outside, Yoosung slid his palm down Saeran's arm until finding his hand, taking it in his own. He waited until they were a block away from the store. "Are you okay, Saeran? I've never seen you so tense to meet someone."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

Yoosung frowned. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.... I’m just checking in.”

Saeran stared at the sidewalk as they dodged around other people, headed for their bus stop. He shrugged. “Was the thing she said true?”

“Which thing?”

“You talk about me a lot?”

Unexpectedly, Yoosung laughed. “Of course I do! Is that really surprising?”

They reached their bus stop, taking a seat side-by-side on a blue bench, facing the road. Yoosung put his hand on Saeran’s thigh. “Well?”

“I guess I kind of assumed that I was a secret.”

Yoosung turned his head questioningly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Since I’m....” His voice trailed off.

“... A guy?”

“That... and a lot of other things.” A mental patient, he didn’t say. Unemployed. A fuck up. Plus, your best friend’s identical twin— _that’s_ kinda weird.

“I don’t really know what you mean,” Yoosung said, “but I love talking about you. I’ll admit that it’s a little more like bragging, hahah. I hope that’s okay.” He paused. “I guess a few of my friends were weird about it. You being a guy, I mean. But most of them are just really happy for me.”

Saeran clenched his fists, watching cars pass in front of them, feet away. “Those friends.... The ones who were weird. They didn’t try anything, did they?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that! We just, um, don’t hang out so much anymore. But it’s okay!” He gripped Saeran’s hand, preempting his anxiety. “Now I know that they were never good friends to begin with.”

Saeran wouldn’t admit it, but this all felt so strange. Oddly significant. He hadn’t considered their relationship outside of the context of RFA, of their small family. He knew that Yoosung had friends at school, that he went there every day and socialized and had fun. But Saeran had assumed that those parts of his life were compartmentalized. There was a public Yoosung and a private Yoosung. The world could have him in public, as long as Saeran could be a part of his private life.

But those compartments didn’t exist. The Yoosung he knew was the Yoosung the world knew, too. And everywhere, that Yoosung was dating him. Everywhere, that Yoosung loved him, openly.

“Saeran? Are you okay?”

He returned to the present, closing his eyes to ignore the hypnotizing blur of cars. Saeran put his head on Yoosung’s shoulder. Suddenly, he didn’t care who saw them. “I still can’t believe you picked me,” he admitted.

“There’s no one else in the world for me,” Yoosung said. “You’re the one I have eyes for.”

He swallowed hard. “I hope I can live up to that.”

“You do. Every day, you do.” Yoosung pressed his face into Saeran’s hair.

“Can I ask? When you... brag about me. What kinds of things do you say?”

Yoosung smiled, running his thumb along Saeran’s knuckles. “I tell them when we go on dates, about all of the fun things we have planned to do together. Whenever you get me a gift, or do something nice for me, I gush about how thoughtful you are. Sometimes I show them our selfies. I, uh, hope that’s okay, too.

“And it’s little things. Like the other day, someone from the Barista Club at school asked if I was ever coming back, and I told her no, but I’m still practicing my coffee brewing. And then that turned into me talking about how I’ve been brewing tea, too, to make for you since you don’t like caffeine. And then that turned into talking about how cute you are with your tea mug in the morning.” He laughed. “And then I had to stop myself, because I could tell she was getting annoyed. But I just can’t help it. You’re my favorite thing to talk about.”

Saeran took deep breaths as he listened, feeling his face get hot. He felt so calm and warm here. He started to hope the bus would never arrive. “You’re so kind, Yoosung.”

“Only as kind as you deserve.”

Saeran tightened his grip on Yoosung’s hand. “I hope that’s true.”

 

That night Saeran spent time in his living room, reading a comic Yoosung had lent to him. He was struggling to focus on it, occasionally getting through a few pages before realizing he didn’t recognize the characters and hadn’t been absorbing the dialogue. There was a lot on his mind after their day out.

Saeyoung entered from his bedroom, a laptop under his arm. “Oh hey, you’re home.” He sat down cross-legged on the other end of the couch from Saeran, opening the computer. He spoke with a coy tone. “How was spending time with Yoosung?”

“Fine,” Saeran said, pretending to focus on the comic.

“Just fine, huh?” Saeyoung started typing something. He didn’t say anything else, left the judgement hanging in the air.

Normally Saeran would’ve ignored it. But tonight, he decided to continue. “It was really nice, actually. We went shopping, and then he made us dinner.” He shrugged. “I met one of his friends from school, briefly. And then we had a nice conversation when we were waiting for the bus.”

Saeran wasn’t looking at his brother, but he could imagine that he must’ve been taken aback. But when Saeyoung spoke, he seemed calm. “Sounds really nice.”

“Yeah.” Saeran took a breath. “Yoosung is a good person. I’m really happy with him.”

“I’m glad.” There was a smile in Saeyoung’s voice. “It seems like he’s really happy, too. I don’t know if you ever realized, but he was becoming kind of a downer, before you came along.”

“Oh.” Saeran couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The room was silent for a while longer, filled only with the sounds of Saeyoung’s typing. Saeran turned a couple pages in the comic, realized he was lost again, and closed it. He held the book in his lap. “I’m happy here, too.”

Saeyoung didn’t say anything.

“Living with you, I mean. I know I don’t say that enough.”

Saeyoung was silent for a moment longer, then he chuckled. “You’re acting so different tonight.”

Saeran shrugged. “Weird mood, I guess.”

“I like it. I’m happy that we live together, too.” Saeran looked up in time to watch a grin spread on his face. “I think you’re cuter when you’re grumpy, though.”

“Asshole.” Saeran slapped his knee with the comic.

“ _There_ he is. What a cutie.”

Saeran turned away, biting back a smile.


	18. the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would describe this chapter as "a doozy." It's based on a prompt sent by its-like-having-friends on Tumblr! Thank you!!
> 
> I don't normally specify chronology in this fic, but this time I think it's important. This chapter takes place a year and a half after the engagement party, and almost six months into Yoosung and Saeran's relationship. (I really do keep track of my timeline, I just don't bother to share it too much.)
> 
> Also, this is from Saeran's POV!

Dipping a straw into my cup of water, I hold an index finger over one end, covering the opening. I lift the straw, nearly full of water, and move it slowly toward the centerpiece of red roses in the middle of the table. Using my other hand to support the straw, I move my index finger in quick, tiny motions, releasing tiny drops of water onto the petals. It works surprisingly well. They almost look like the dew-covered flowers I saw in a calendar once.

“Having fun?”

I jump at the sound of the voice behind me, lifting my finger inadvertently to pour the full straw of water onto a single flower. Not that it really matters. I feel his hand on my shoulder, his thumb running small circles into the muscle of my back.

Nervously, I turn to look at him. “Hi, Yoosung.”

He grins, showing those perfect white teeth, then leans over to kiss me on the forehead. (It makes my hair stand up a little.) “Why are you sitting all the way over here? Not that this doesn’t look, uh, interesting.”

I shrug as he pulls up a chair to sit down beside me. “You know why.”

“Nervous around all the people?”

Glancing at the crowd across the room, I give a tiny nod. This empty-floored planetarium, lit by projected stars and glowing white lights on the floor’s perimeter, is surprisingly packed. Especially considering that it’s, y’know, my loner brother’s wedding. I’ve never met most of these people in my life. The groom only invited the members of the RFA, plus Vanderwood of all people, and some guy from our neighborhood who he’s apparently friends with. The bride, however, has a regular family. Regular friends acquired over the course of a regular life. I guess she kept her guest list relatively short, too, but these people definitely outnumber us.

I feel the fingers of Yoosung’s right hand intertwine with those of my left. He smiles at me. “I’ll stay with you, if you don’t mind. I’d much rather spend my night with you. But if you’re up for it, we should move in a little closer, Saeran. It’s a shame for the best man to be separated from the groom all night.”

I grimace slightly. “I don’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“We don’t have to. We could, um....”

I watch the embarrassed expression on his face. “We could what?”

His head bowed somewhat, he looks up at me through brown eyelashes. “Do you want to dance with me?”

I would just say “no,” but it’s difficult to outright reject that face. That stupidly cute face. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“I do! I got Zen to teach me how. Which means that I can lead, and then all you have to do is follow my steps.”

I take my hand out of his and put it on my lap, where I start pulling on my fingers. “I don’t know.”

“I promise that it’s really easy. We can just, like, sway back and forth.” He smiles sheepishly. “I would really love to dance with you, Saeran.”

I sigh slowly, then give a tiny smile. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to laugh if I mess something up.”

Holding my hand again, he guides me across the room to a section close to the speakers, designated as the dance floor. On the way over, I catch sight of Saeyoung, involved in a conversation with his new in-laws. He waves at me as I pass by, and with my free hand, I give an awkward wave back.

I know he probably wants me over there. Not there with his in-laws specifically. Just... by his side, on his wedding night. I can see it on his face. There’s so much still unsaid between us, but we can read one another so easily. That’s probably why he hasn’t given up on me, in spite of my continual coldness toward him.

He knows I’ve more-or-less forgiven him. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. And he knows I’m just struggling with the next steps.

I could join him, now or after this dance. I could’ve joined him immediately after the ceremony. But I know that I won’t. I’m too much of a coward to let my guard down, tell him my feelings, be the brother I’m supposed to be.

I can’t think about this right now.

Yoosung and I find a place to stand toward the edge of the dance floor, as far away from others as possible, and stand facing one another.

“Okay,” he says. Since I’m leading, I’ll put my hands like this.” He latches onto my waist. “And you can put your hands on my shoulders.” I comply, trying not to seem nervous.

“Now what?”

He starts stepping to the rhythm of the slow, romantic song playing over the speakers. Without being asked, I try to follow his lead.

Yoosung is right. It’s really not difficult at all. The hardest part is just wondering how I must look to everyone else, especially the RFA members, who know how out of character this is. I must look stiff and awkward and ridiculous. But it’s okay. Because Yoosung is looking at me. And when I can talk to him, or stare in his eyes, Yoosung has a way of making my anxieties momentarily disappear.

His eyes are on me, but he seems like he’s concentrating hard, trying to keep with the rhythm of the music. I want to tell him to relax a little bit, so I press my fingers against the muscles of his upper back, rubbing slowly until his eyelids fall somewhat, and he’s looking at me more tenderly. I stretch out my arms, then fold them so that my elbows are rested on his shoulders. Our bodies are closer now, and as we step to the rhythm vibrating the floor at our feet, each movement we make is completely in unison.

“You look so nice in that suit,” he says suddenly, his voice a little breathless.

I smile, pressing my forehead against his. “You too.”

He laughs a little then. “I didn’t even know they rented out planetariums for events.”

“You know Saeyoung. He probably bribed someone. Or blackmailed them.”

“I don’t condone that, but... it really _is_ romantic.”

It’s true. To be so completely surrounded a deep, dark blue representing the night sky, with tiny white specs of light dotting the dome-shaped walls around and above us.... I’m not the sentimental type, but there are so many embarrassing thoughts surfacing in my mind. All of them about him. He looks beautiful here, and so natural. Nothing could reflect these lights as beautifully as his eyes do. And when he smiles, he shines brighter than any of the constellations, and....

God. He could turn me into a poet. A really bad and shameless poet. I have to hold my tongue to refrain from saying something stupid.

The slow song ends, and our tiny motions stop as the music is replaced with something faster and more upbeat. Our foreheads still together, I move my hands down to his chest and stare at them.

“Done dancing?” he says.

I nod.

“Good.” He leans in to kiss me. And normally I would pull away. But it’s dark, and no one is looking, and we’re at a goddamn wedding, so I kiss him back, our movements soft and slow. His fingers press more firmly into my waist. I sigh a little against his lips and ball my hands at his chest into gentle fists.

Just then, I feel a hand on my head, nuzzling at my hair. We break the kiss abruptly, and I see that Yoosung’s hair is getting the same treatment. We look over at Zen, and even in the dark, I can see the pink tint of his face. How much did he drink already?

“Oops,” he says, his speech light and playful. “Don’t let me interrupt!”

Feeling my cheeks get hot, I press against Yoosung’s chest, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “What do you want, Zen?” His voice is low and forceful.

(I’ll admit it: I love it when he gets mad. I especially love it when he gets mad on my behalf.)

“You two are like my little brothers.” He’s gushing. “My little brothers who went and found love with each other.”

“That’s really....”

“You two are gonna be next, right?” Zen chuckles softly. “Ahh, I made myself sad thinking about it. But happy, too.”

“We’ve... only been dating a few months.” Yoosung sounds tense. I empathize.

“Time doesn’t matter when it’s true love involved. You’re right, though, you’re right. Take your time. Maybe I _will_ manage to meet someone before you wind up married....”

I listen to him walk away, muttering something about finding someone “before that rich asshole does.” When I’m sure he’s gone, I lift up my head to look at Yoosung. He’s blushing intensely, avoiding my eyes, which makes me feel more nervous.

“Want to sit down?” I offer.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand, even after we’ve sat down at an empty nearby table. He has that expression on his face, like he’s deep in thought, and he won’t even look in my direction. I know from experience that it doesn’t mean he’s upset with me. It doesn’t mean I did anything wrong. But still, when I see him this way, I always default to fear.

“What’s wrong, Yoosung?” I try to hide the neediness in my voice.

He looks up at me as though he’d forgotten I was there. Then, he forces a tiny smile. “Do you ever think about it?”

Swallowing thickly, I feel my grip on his hand loosen involuntarily, my muscles turning weak with nerves. “The thing Zen was talking about?”

He nods.

“... Do _you_ ever think about it?”

“Yes.” He answers right away. “Kind of all the time.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. Is that.... Is it too soon to mention it?” His voice is nervous, but he’s still trying to smile.

Thinking about it makes me feel heavy. I don’t want to part with Yoosung, but marriage seems complicated and unfamiliar. A ritual designed for people so unlike me. An answer to a question I can’t even formulate.

... I never even expected to live this long. Decades of forced commitment feels like... too much to imagine.

“It’s fine,” I tell him anyway, my voice flat.

“It’d be far away, of course,” he says. “But I let myself fantasize about what it would be like to share a life with you. Maybe I’m too much of a romantic.”

I shake my head earnestly. “I’m glad you’re a romantic.”

He runs his free hand through his hair. “What about you, though? _Do_ you ever think about it?”

I take in a slow breath, trying to put together my thoughts. He’s patient with me. He runs his thumb along my knuckles, smiling slightly, as though encouraging me to take my time.

“Marriage, no,” I finally answer. “The future, yes.”

“Oh? What about the future?”

I purse my lips. We’re reaching one of those thresholds. One of those places where I’ll either be honest, or I’ll close up. Taking a breath, I decide to go as far as I can.

“Did I ever tell you what happened after you, uh. Asked me out?”

He tilts his head as though trying to remember. “Weren’t we texting each other that night? And the whole next day?”

“Yes. But I didn’t tell you what was happening to me in person.”

He frowns. “What happened?”

Deciding I’ll be braver if I’m not looking at his face, I stare at our interlocked hands. “It was bad.” I inhale sharply. “I threw up twice the next day. I had a panic attack. Saeyoung had to watch me all day, the way he did when I first got out of the hospital. Oh... I wasn’t going to do anything _dangerous_. I was just... unstable.”

“Sweetheart,” he breathes.

I continue. “I kept drafting texts to you, telling you that I couldn’t date you, and I would only hurt you, and you’d be better off with someone else.” I fall silent, embarrassed and unsure of how to proceed. “I think they’re still saved on my phone.”

“I had no idea,” he says. “But what happened? You seemed okay the next time I saw you.”

I close my eyes. “You just kept talking to me. You kept texting and calling and telling me kind things, telling me how excited you were, how long you’d been waiting to be with me. I started to believe that you really meant it.”

My eyes are still closed, so I can’t see his expression. “Oh....” That’s all he says.

“You’ve changed me, Yoosung.”

He squeezes my hand.

“I’ve been trying to change all along. Into what, I’m not sure. But ever since... everything happened, I’ve been trying to find someone inside of me who I can be proud of. Sometimes I think I’m getting closer to that person. But....”

“But?”

“But when you tell me how you see me, it’s like I’m already there. It’s like the person I want to be is the person you already see in me. And I can see glimpses of him, too.”

I don’t realize he’s about to hug me until I feel his arms around my neck. I don’t realize he’s crying until I hear him sniffle in my ear. He always cries so easily. I smile, pulling my arms around him, gazing at wisps of his blonde hair through half-lidded eyes.

“So that’s what I mean, when I say I think about the future. I’ve come so far with your help. It’s... exciting, I guess, to think of what else I could be, if you stay by my side.”

“Saeran...,” he whispers. “Saeran. You’re already perfect to me.”

“Yeah.” I hold him tighter. “You, too.”

An idea enters my mind. It’s actually an idea I had weeks ago that I’d quickly disregarded, finding it stupid and embarrassing. But Yoosung has me in one of those impulsive moods. Suddenly, it seems like the best idea I’ve ever had.

“Hey, Yoosung?”

“Yeah?”

“I... want to do something later. But I need your help. Not a lot of help.” I squeeze my hands against his waist. “I just need you to be by my side.”

“Of course, Saeran. Anything.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner is held in the main hall of the observatory, an elegant and bright room with paintings of constellations on the ceilings. I’m sitting toward the middle of a long table, Yoosung on my right and Saeyoung on my left. Glancing around the room, I realize that the attendance for this wedding seems much smaller when we’re not all packed in the relatively small and poorly-lit planetarium. Everyone fits in only a handful of tables.

Zen is standing on the other side of the bride and groom, giving a speech into a microphone and very obviously trying to upstage the one Jumin gave just minutes ago. As an actor, I assume he’s had practice in giving a composed performance in spite of uncomfortable circumstances. Still, he’s very obviously had too much to drink. The newlyweds don’t seem to mind. In fact, I think they find it hilarious.

Although I’m the best man, Saeyoung assured me that I wouldn’t be expected to speak. “You’ll say everything we want to hear just by being there.” Those were his exact words. I don’t know whether to be grateful or ashamed that he expects so little out of me.

I want to hear exactly what Zen has to say, but I’m too nervous to pay attention. I’m flipping back and forth on this idea, my impulsive confidence quickly wearing off. Even if I go through with it, I’m not sure I’ll be brave enough to proceed without making a fool of myself. I feel my heartbeat quicken, a static-y feeling building in my arms and legs.

And then I can feel a soft grip on my hand. I look over, and Yoosung is smiling at me. He squeezes my palm. The fear subsides somewhat.

Hearing a small round of applause, I realize that Zen’s speech has ended. A wave of cold anxiety grips my throat and chest. I’m too frozen to act as he hands the microphone back to Saeyoung. Maybe I won’t do this. It’s probably better if I don’t.

“Saeyoung.”

He glances over when Yoosung says his name. Yoosung has provided a brief pause, a small window of opportunity.

I hold out my hand, looking at the microphone. Saeyoung slowly moves it toward me. When I take it, the newlyweds look stunned.

Tapping the top of the microphone, just to stall time, I try to get my thoughts in order. I don’t stand up. Actually, I decide to put my feet on my chair, pulling my knees up to my chest. I look stupid, but I feel more comfortable. And well, I’m going to look stupid either way.

I glance at Yoosung, who has his elbow on the table, resting his head on the palm of his hand. He doesn’t seem nervous or excited. He’s just ready to hear me speak. When he smiles, the adrenaline in my system mixes with something warmer, something a little calmer.

Staring at my knees, I speak into the microphone. “I suppose I’m supposed to reminisce about the past at a time like this. I have... a complicated history with the bride and groom alike, so I’m mostly going to talk about the future, instead.”

I take a slow breath. Now that I’ve started, I’m less apprehensive. “My brother and my new sister-in-law have a strong relationship. It’s... very functional, and very happy. It’s also the kind of relationship that grows stronger over time. I know this with a certain authority, because I’ve stayed extremely close to them both for the past year and a half. Oftentimes against my will.” I pause. “That was a joke.”

The resulting silence is punctuated by a few uncomfortable laughs throughout the room, a genuine giggle from Yoosung, and an excessive belly laugh from Zen. Hearing him, I can’t help but smile as well before I continue. “I’ve never had... a positive model for romantic relationships. Watching their relationship develop, I was surprised to see that they do more than care for and support one another. They also challenge one another to change or to see things differently, and they do this often. Sometimes it’s a source of conflict. But I’ve learned that this, also, is an expression of love. It’s something they seem to know well, and that’s why I believe their relationship will continue to grow stronger.”

For the first time, I look up from my knees to see Yoosung. He has an expression on his face that I haven’t seen. It’s something mature, something intense. I close my eyes, trying to hold it in my mind, mark down every detail of it like a developing photograph. I want to keep this moment and the way it feels. “I hope that I can continue to watch them,” I say, the words coming automatically now. I hope they make sense. “I want to see what they do next, because I can’t predict it. I think that’s the nature of growth, is that it happens unpredictably.” I swallow hard. “But we can model ourselves after a vision. So I want to see their marriage and learn what they’re doing correctly. They’ve given me... something valuable. It’s hope that I can, also....” I take a slow breath. “Hope that by learning from them, I can keep growing too, with the person I love.”

I need to wrap this up. I’m growing more and more aware of the intense, uncomfortable, confused, emotional gazes all fixed on me. But I need to make a point absolutely clear. “It’s one of many things that Saeyoung, my twin brother, has given to me. So I at least want to say... congratulations.”

I hold the microphone toward him, but wind up dropping it when I’m tackled in an immediate hug. His arms are around me, and then his wife’s, and then I can feel his tears leaking on my shoulder. Two people have cried on me today, maybe now three by the sound of her whimpers, and I want to take a twelve hour nap.

Everyone is clapping, but not Yoosung. He’s just sitting by my side, beaming, knowing that I don’t want any praise. And it’s true—I didn’t do this for praise. I did this for my brother. I did it for my sister-in-law. And I did it for him.

Right now, they’re the only ones who matter. They’re the only three who have found a place in my heart. Maybe someday, with their help, I’ll be able to open up for others. But in this moment, I have everything I need.


	19. puffs of white air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long!! Sorry for the delay. My semester is almost over, and I've been busy with thesis and other things. But between this and the last chapter, I wrote kind of a Yooran one shot from Saeyoung's perspective, so if you haven't read that yet, go look! It takes place in the same canon as this fic, but I wanted it to be able to stand as its own thing.
> 
> Anyway, I'm not quite sure how I feel about this chapter yet, but I think I might like it a lot.

You’d stopped fighting Yoosung’s visits a while ago. In the early days, it had been a constant battle with yourself. No matter who invited him over, and for what purpose, you’d find yourself panicking, pulling on your fingers, pacing from kitchen to bedroom to couch. Who would you be for him today? Would you cross your arms and lower your gaze, battle with every question, and finally retreat to your room? Or would you leave yourself an open target, get close and let him bat you around with his kindness like a puppy with a chew toy, feel fleeting fevered happiness followed by a night’s worth of paranoid regret?

You anguished over this for weeks, but somehow, you can’t remember when the uncertainty calmed. At first it was a lapse in willpower. Against your better judgement, you kept spending time with him, talking, getting to know one another. And then it wasn’t about willpower at all. You’d hold back a smile when he walked through the door, eager to hear how he’d greet you.

Today he asks: “Do you want to go on a walk with me?”

It’s your favorite question, and he can probably tell.

You bundle up in your winter clothes, frowning when he straightens your scarf for you but feeling fireworks in your chest. After sharing your plans with a grateful Saeyoung, you follow a step behind him as you leave the bunker and enter onto the sidewalk outside.

As always, you first look to the sky. It’s disappointing today—an unbroken, light gray sheet of cloud. No colors to take comfort in, no shapes to observe. Yoosung must notice the look on your face.

“Sorry, the weather’s pretty bad today.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him.

“Do you still want to go?”

“Yes.”

He leads you into the world.

The sidewalks are almost empty in this residential part of town. You listen silently as Yoosung recounts the details of his day, mundane tidbits about odd lecturers and friend group drama. For some reason, you love the normalcy of it, the banality. You never used to find comfort in such things.

Occasionally, he’ll glance over his shoulder at you, as if to check that you’re still there. He knows that you like to trail behind, and he lets you. Each time he looks back, you observe the way his eyes linger on your face before dropping to the ground, a hint of a smile on his lips. And each time, you convince yourself that it didn’t happen.

You both turn off of the sidewalk onto a dirt trail, leading into a small park. On a sunnier day, this place would look beautiful, all green leaves and gently shaking tree branches under warm gusts of wind. Today, all of the colors seem monochrome. The world looks damp.

Suddenly he says, “Enough talking about me. How have you been, Saeran? How’s everything at the Choi house?”

“It’s fine.” You sniff, your nose starting to run from the cold air.

His mouth flattens a bit before he can decide how to respond. “Saeyoung seemed happy that you had the chance to get outside. I’m glad I could come with you.”

“Hm.” You pause. “Happy to get rid of me, more like.” It’s an automatic response, and you almost cringe at how bratty it sounds.

He gives a small sardonic laugh, unconvinced by your performance. “What are you talking about? That’s not how he seemed at all.”

You stop walking. He notices immediately, and slows to a halt, glancing back at you without turning around.

“Saeran?”

You know the frame of mind you’re entering. A gear is turning in your brain, and you can’t slow it down.

“Is something wrong?” He tilts his head and tries to sound casual.

There’s a frosty gust of wind that bites at your ears and nose when you answer. “He’d leave me if he could.”

“What?” Turning to face you fully, Yoosung hugs his coat against his chest. “No, Saeran. Of course he wouldn’t.”

The gear turns faster. “He already regrets taking me in. But he has too much pride to walk out again.”

“Of course not,” he says, his tone more soothing now. “That’s just not true. Saeyoung loves you, and I think.... Honestly, Saeran, I think he’s more afraid that _you’ll_ leave than anything.”

“Of course he is,” you say. “People always leave.”

He looks hurt. His voice comes out quiet and pained. “I wouldn’t.” The answer catches you off guard.

“You barely know me.”

“I know you well enough to know that I care about you.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It isn’t.” He doesn’t say it combatively. It’s an observation. A statement of fact. It frustrates you, even though you know it’s what you wanted to hear. “And besides, you’re RFA, which means you’re family now. I couldn’t ever leave you.”

A wave of nausea hits. The gear keeps turning.

“Family isn’t special,” you spit out, feeling your hands start to tremble. “Don’t act like that word means anything.” An old but familiar voice comes through you. It’s shaky and scathing. “You know what stops your family from leaving you? Nothing. They can disappear, the same as anyone else.”

The confidence in his expression crumbles. His wary eyes dart around your face, as though searching for wherever your kindness went.

You lower your voice. “Don’t pretend that family makes any difference.”

“I’m sorry, Saeran.” He matches your volume, stepping closer, as though sharing an intimate secret. “I know—I understand.”

“You’ll never understand.” Unable to meet his eyes, you turn away, head in the other direction down the dirt path.

When he calls out to you, his voice is shaking. “I already do, Saeran! Probably more than _anyone_.” He’s angry. It stops you cold.

His footsteps get closer as he speaks. “The person I needed and trusted the most disappeared from my life. I’ve told you that. She- she just left, and I never knew why, and it’s... it was the worst thing that ever happened to me.” His hand is on your shoulder, and he’s pulling you around to look at him. He grabs your left hand and holds it at chest-level, squeezing it tight. “She wasn’t there when I needed her, and my life fell apart. Don’t talk to me like I don’t understand, because I do! I at least understand this much.”

Without warning, tears spill out of his eyes, and you feel your body freeze up. The stubborn feeling inside of you is gone, disappeared the second he starts crying. He wipes his cheeks with his free hand. “So stop fighting with me! Don’t push me away whenever I come over, and then act like it’s for my sake. I’m not just doing this for you. Don’t you understand that by now?”

You start to focus on the puffs of white air coming out of your mouth, little puffs of hot white air in the space between you and Yoosung. They look like little clouds.You breathe through your mouth and watch them rise into the air.

You need to focus on _him_. You need to listen. But these puffs of white air are in the space between you, and they’re so much easier to look at, so much less frightening than this boy you’re in love with crying because of some thoughtless thing you said. They’re shaped like mushrooms, like hearts, like apples, like crabs, like seashells, and you can hear his voice still and it’s still getting through to you.

“I’m being selfish. I want to be close to you, Saeran, and I want you to trust me more than anything. Maybe you think that’s stupid. Maybe you think I’m naive and childish and I’ll never understand you. But I can’t stop. The more I know you, the more I just can’t shake this feeling that _we need each other_.”

He takes a step closer and breaks through one of the clouds, and now you’re looking at his eyes. They’re always more striking than you expect. “Family matters to _me_ ,” he says. “I don’t care that there are people who break those bonds. I would never, because I know as well as you do how devastating that feels.” He keeps holding your hand, but he’s letting your arms fall slack now, letting your hands hang at your waists. “I’ll never leave you. Never. Please don’t doubt what matters to me.”

He’s stopped crying, but his eyes are red, and it hurts to look at. “Okay, Saeran?”

You nod. “Sorry.” It’s like a child’s apology.

He releases your hand and brings his palms up to his face. He starts whimpering.

“Yoosung?” You reach out a hand and let it hover over his shoulder, uncertain of what to do.

“Why did she leave, Saeran?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know.” It’s all you can say, and you hate it.

Yoosung stumbles to a park bench just off the path, sobbing openly. You follow close behind him as he lifts himself onto the table and sits, hunched over, with his feet on the seat below. His hands grip the edge of the bench. You take a seat beside him, a foot of space between you. You’re watching him cry, and it hurts to do nothing.

How to comfort? You think hard, trying to remember examples from your past.

You think of her, the subject of his misery, and what she would have done. You recall times where she stood in front of you, one hand pressed to the back of your head, entangled in your hair, another rested on your shoulder. Never more contact than that. Always close but never intimate, never truly consoling. Always enough uncomfortable distance to make you feel less human. You understand this now.

You think of Saeyoung. The Saeyoung you knew first, the one who never broke your trust. You think of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, hugging you tight. You think of his head pressed against yours as he said hopeful things in your ear, wishes for a future you would never receive. And you can recall how empty those promises felt, even before he disappeared. That plan was always too clean.

And for a moment, you draw up a hazy and distant memory of your mother, from a time when you were too young to stand on your own. She has you wrapped in her arms, and those hands you would come to fear are gentle, carefully supporting your weight. You’re still not sure whether or not this is a dream.

But how does Saeran Choi comfort? Not you, not the real Saeran Choi, but the ghost you’re chasing, the missing person you aspire towards. You try to imagine him here instead of you, giving Yoosung all of the affection and kind words that he deserves. But you can’t picture it. He’s still such a mystery.

So you think about Yoosung instead. Yoosung’s comfort: light touch and reassurances, whispered kind words, honest empathy, and praise. You think of it, and your heart aches. If other people like him exist, then they must be the best people of all.

You wonder: could Saeran Choi be something like that?

You brush your fingers against the back of Yoosung’s hand. He releases his grasp on the table, sliding his hand back and entwining his fingers with yours. You squeeze softly against his palm. This is what you can do, for now. Maybe it’s close to enough. He’s holding your hand, and his sobs are calming.

“You know... what the worst part is?” he says through shaky gasps of breath.

“What’s that?”

He sniffs loudly. “The part when they’re gone, and you have to keep asking yourself, like.... Was it me? Did- did I do something wrong? Or did I not do something I should have?” He exhales slowly. “That’s the worst part.”

You nod. “Yeah.” It’s been so long since you thought those things, but you remember the questions so clearly, now that he’s mentioned them. “I agree. That’s the worst part.”

“God,” he says. “I’m so glad that I met you.”

You look up.

The sky takes on so many colors. Blues, oranges, reds, pinks, deep shades of purple. Each one, to you, is special. Each one a reflection of something so beautiful and so fleeting. You’re used to feeling depressed when the sky gets concealed like this.

But in this moment, you start to reconsider. Maybe this, also, is something special. Maybe there’s something salvageable in this sky that you’ve so hated. This bleak and hopeless vision that you’re sharing with him.... If you can hold onto this feeling in your heart, maybe it can just carry you.


	20. good boyfriends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that the previous two chapters I wrote were really emotionally heavy, and that the final(!) two chapters after this will be emotionally heavy, so I thought I'd write a short fluffy filler chapter, and before I knew it Yoosung was crying into a bowl of soup. Whoops!!
> 
> Shout out to Rain and Fo for your help on this one~ It's vaguely based on a prompt that a Tumblr anon sent way back, so thank you too if you read this! Anyway yeah I only have two more chapters of this fic planned and I'm hoping to get them both out soon. But... I love this ship so I hope I can keep making art and writing for them as long as people are interested!

Yoosung cleared the final stair and reached the top floor of his apartment complex. His head ached slightly, a steady pounding rhythm at his temples. As he sorted through the set of brass keys at his fingertips, the soft sound of footsteps filtered through his front door. Yoosung smiled weakly, the invisible weight on his body lightening somewhat.

He pushed open the door. Saeran was walking across the living room, but he halted at the sound of Yoosung’s entrance, turning to fully face the front door. Glancing up and down at Saeran, who stood still at the center of the rug with hands clasped together, Yoosung tilted his head. “Hey, cutie. You waited around all day for me?”

Saeran nodded. “How do you feel?”

“I....” Yoosung closed the door behind him. Now, completely at home in his apartment and standing in front of his boyfriend, he could relax into his emotions. The exhaustion, stress, and post-cry heaviness he’d been carrying for hours settled in. Yoosung’s shoulders slumped, and with a couple of small shakes, his backpack slid off of his back onto the floor. He approached Saeran, who opened his arms slightly to accept the embrace, placing a hand behind Yoosung’s head as he nuzzled into Saeran’s neck.

“Bad,” Yoosung finally said. “I feel really bad.”

Saeran said nothing, petting Yoosung’s hair gently with one hand.

“But I’m glad that you’re here.”

Saeran nodded against Yoosung’s head. “Are you hungry?”

He sighed. “Starving. I couldn’t really eat at lunch.”

“Okay. I made food.”

Yoosung pulled away a bit, looking up at Saeran, who averted his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Well. I heated up some canned soup, and I made sandwiches.” Saeran shrugged. “I just figured you wouldn’t want to cook tonight. I thought you’d be fine with whatever.”

Placing his hands on the side’s of Saeran’s face, Yoosung turned his boyfriend’s head so that they were making eye contact. “Don’t say it like that! You made me dinner.” He smiled softly.

Saeran tried, and failed, to hold back a smile in return. “It’s going to get cold, so....”

When they entered the kitchen, Yoosung stopped in the doorway. He looked back at Saeran, wide-eyed. “It’s clean!”

“Yeah....”

Yoosung rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, embarrassed. “Oh, god, I’m sorry! I’ve been so focused on my finals, there must’ve been two weeks of dishes. Thank you so, so much. This is so....”

“It’s not a big deal.” Saeran scratched his neck. “Consider it replacement for the rent I don’t pay even though I’m here half the time.”

Yoosung opened his mouth to argue, but noting the way that Saeran was biting his lip, he decided to refrain. Praise for Saeran was good, but in certain contexts, it only made him self-conscious. In those situations, it was best to hold back. (And maybe express the gratitude later, non-verbally. Yoosung filed the thought away for another time.) “Still, it means a lot,” he said and left it at that.

They sat down to eat, immediately linking hands below Yoosung’s tiny kitchen table. Saeran watched Yoosung’s face from the corner of his eye, trying to read his expression. Now, when he assumed that Saeran wasn’t looking, his features sunk. The crease between his eyebrows reappeared, and he stared hard into his soup bowl, spinning its contents with the tip of his spoon.

After taking a few bites, Saeran decided to interrupt him. “Yoosung?”

“Hm?” His purple eyes flitted up, though his posture didn’t change.

Saeran tilted his head. “Are you not hungry? We can eat later.”

“Ah.” Yoosung blinked rapidly, glancing back down at his food. He let go of Saeran’s hand, putting his elbows on the table, and before Saeran could register what was happening, he started crying.

“Yoosung?” He dropped his spoon, placing a hand on Yoosung’s forearm and leaning in to get a clearer look at his face. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Yoosung shook his head, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I’m- ugh, god. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying.”

“You can cry....” Saeran squeezed his forearm, hoping it reassured him.

Taking his sleeve away but still sobbing softly, Yoosung continued with a quivering voice. “My boyfriend m- made me dinner, and I’m t- too mad at myself to even eat it. I’m such a loser.”

“You’re not.” Saeran shook his head. “You’re not a loser.”

“And I’m ruining our nice night, too.”

“No!” Saeran scooted his chair in, lifting his free hand to grasp Yoosung’s fingers. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re....” He frowned, struggling to think of a better reassurance. “You tried your best,” he said quietly.

“That’s the thing!” The volume of his voice nearly made Saeran jump. Yoosung grimaced, then continued more softly. “I _did_ try my best. I tried my best all semester. I haven’t worked this hard since high school. I’ve never gotten a bad grade in a class after working this hard, much less _failed_.”

“... Oh.”

Yoosung rubbed at his eyes again. “I used to think I was smart.”

“You _are_ smart.” Saeran squeezed his hand harder. “Failing a class isn’t such a big deal.”

“Most people never fail a class, Saeran. Most people never even come close.”

“Oh,” he said again. Saeran frowned. “I’m sorry. I never.... I don’t know very much about school.”

Yoosung shook his head weakly. “It’s nothing to apologize for.”

They sat still, Saeran gripping Yoosung’s hand, Yoosung sniffling over his untouched bowl of soup. Saeran looked at his boyfriend’s face closely, hoping for some inspiration, some brilliant idea of what to say that would make things right. Instead, he watched tears spill onto Yoosung’s cheeks, some being caught on his sleeve, others dripping onto the tabletop.

“I’m such a loser,” Yoosung repeated.

Saeran breathed in.

“I couldn’t even scrape by with a low grade. I _failed_.”

He waited, saying nothing.

“I’ll never be good enough for you.”

He straightened up. “What?”

Yoosung lowered his head, hiding his face. Saeran reached over to brush the bangs away from his eyes.

“Yoosung. Why would you say something like that?”

Without moving, he answered. “I might not be able to graduate as early as I was planning to.”

After a long silence, Saeran ducked down to try to meet Yoosung’s gaze. “You want to graduate early?”

“The earlier I graduate the sooner we can....” Yoosung turned toward the wall. “The sooner I can support you. Instead, I failed my Geography final, and that might mean another semester here, and I made you cook dinner for me and clean my whole kitchen, and I didn’t even eat the food you made because I feel too sick, and....” His voice trailed off, but his eyes darted around as he tried to think of additional grievances. “And now I’m making you feel bad. I’m a bad boyfriend. I’m sorry.”

Saeran stood up from his chair abruptly. Yoosung twisted around to see what he was doing. Holding out a hand, Saeran motioned toward the other room with his head. “Come on.”

Yoosung took Saeran’s hand without question and was pulled onto his feet. They walked together through the living room and into Yoosung’s bedroom, where Saeran pulled him to the middle of the floor, then to put two hands on his shoulders, a non-verbal request of “stay.” Yoosung craned his neck to watch Saeran pick up a blanket from the foot of his bed before carrying it over. He put one corner on Yoosung’s shoulder, then wrapped the blanket a few times until Yoosung was solidly cocooned within it. With his arms immobile, he had to be helped by Saeran to get onto his bed and lie out with his head on the pillow. Once Yoosung was settled, Saeran turned off the glaring overhead light and crawled onto the bed beside him, embracing him at his waist.

“I’m taking care of you tonight,” he said.

“Saeran....”

“Listen.” Saeran pulled Yoosung even closer before he continued. “You’re not stupid. You’re not a bad boyfriend. You just suck at Geography.”

Yoosung couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s okay,” Saeran continued. “I suck at talking to cashiers, and cooking, and a whole lot of other things. You.... You’re really patient, and you help me all the time.” He reached up to brush Yoosung’s hair out of his face, holding a blonde strand lightly between his fingers. Yoosung smiled at him. “That’s because you’re a good boyfriend.”

Yoosung’s eyes, half-lidded, stared tenderly. “You think so?”

Saeran nodded. “So please. Let me be a good boyfriend, too. Let me make you food and do your dishes. Don’t feel bad if you need to stay in school another semester.” He lowered his eyes, feeling his face turn hot. “I’d wait... forty semesters, if I needed to.”

“That’s _twenty years_ , Saeran,” Yoosung said, grinning.

Saeran nodded. “You’d still look cute in your backpack and hoodie.”

Yoosung laughed harder. “You’d really date a forty-one-year-old college student?”

“Mm-hm. I’d say, this is my boyfriend. He sucks at school and I love him.”

Yoosung closed his eyes, letting his grin turn wider. “You make me feel so good,” he said dreamily.

“Good.” Saeran crawled forward, then bent to leave a small kiss on Yoosung’s lips. “Now tell me how I can take care of you tonight.”

“Hmmm. Can you bring me my sandwich? I think I’m ready to eat now.”

Saeran nodded. “Anything else?”

Opening one eye, Yoosung smiled nervously. “Will you feed it to me? This blanket is really comfortable.... Don’t roll your eyes like that!”

“Sorry.” Saeran sighed. “All right, Yoosung. You’re just lucky that I love you.”


	21. white noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warnings for this chapter. Brief mentions and vague depictions of violence and childhood abuse. Depictions of PTSD flashbacks and other symptoms. Mentions of vomit. Saeran is very disoriented here, and he badly misinterprets some things in a way that's probably misleading. If you're easily triggered by mentions of abuse, proceed with caution please. ♥
> 
> This chapter is heavy but I felt like I needed to cover some more ground with Saeran's anxieties and mental health before I finish this fic. The next one will be lighter, and I'm going to write it very soon!
> 
> On a side note, writing this was cathartic as hell.

Saeran wandered. He felt his feet move below him, step by shaking step, drawing him across nearly-empty sidewalks under yellow streetlamps. His breath came out in steady pants, his legs moving in a quick, rhythmic motion. He kept his head ducked, barely glancing into the dark windows of the shops and restaurants on either side of him. Saeran focused only on moving forward, on walking and progressing and thinking hard until he had an idea of where to go.

How much time did he have until sunrise? He was pretty deep into the city, and earlier he’d passed a shop that advertised its 2 AM closing time, pitch black and locked up. Without his phone on-hand, this was his only clue. Simply put, it was late.

Saeran stiffened as he noticed a moving figure ahead of him, at the edge of his sight. He kept his head down and listened as the footsteps come closer before watching the figure’s white tennis shoes pass by, disappearing behind him, getting quieter again with each step. This kept happening, here and there. Lone stragglers would pass, or low voices would be audible from alleyways. Saeran would listen tensely. Wonder to himself, if the worst happened, could he intimidate an aggressor? Could he still pull up an expression of confident malice from somewhere deep in his mind, strut forward in this mask and look brave enough to strike?

Saeran reminded himself, he was wearing the brown fuzzy coat from his last shopping trip with his sister-in-law. And underneath, a rosy-colored sweater, the one Yoosung liked. His hair was a bold red now, his cheeks filled out by a healthy diet, his gaze softened over years of comfort, solitude, slightly better sleep. He was sure that he looked far from intimidating. And then Saeran thought of Yoosung on the floor, remembered the fear in his eyes, the bend of his wrist, and changed his mind again. Appearances aside, he was definitely a monster. He was also probably actually going to throw up this time.

Saeran swerved from the middle of the sidewalk, braced himself on the bumper of a car and bent over above the gutter. He coughed, gagged, heaved, but produced nothing but spit and a wave of lightheadedness. He stared at dirt and grime in the gutter. Spitting a final time and straightening up again, Saeran felt the nausea settle once more in his gut. He took a moment to breathe, stay still, and collect his thoughts.

Where to go? He had three friends in this world, and he couldn’t go to any of them. Two family members who would only talk him down. A boyfriend who he could never look in the eye again. And anyway, without a phone, he probably couldn’t navigate to any of them. Probably couldn’t even navigate back to the apartment....

He set back down the sidewalk. Walking. Walking was important now. Moving forward. Letting his legs carry him one, two, three paces further away from his mistakes, four, five, six paces closer to wherever he’d end up.

He tried to keep counting. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, one, two o’clock, three o’clock, four o’clock, how much longer? How long in the dream had he been tied there? He could feel the ropes again, the hunger in his chest. But more than that, he could feel the air of that house, the racing of his child heart, like no time had passed at all. Was it five, six, seven o’clock when she finally came back to him, loosed the ropes, and he felt himself lunge, shift forward in time, his heart adult-sized now and arrhythmic under the effect of the drugs. He can still remember the shuddering in his chest, once or twice every minute even when he tried to sleep. Could remember the shortness of breath, the shortness that returned whenever he remembered too vividly. He moved to that moment of power. It was that single hideous moment when the scales were rebalanced, knocked over, broken.

He had methods of curtailing these hazy flashbacks, but he didn’t use them now. He deserved to feel this. Every second of it. It had swept over him in the dream, unmotivated and unstoppable, and it swept over him now just the same.

He would always be broken, Saeran realized, the memory clearing as discomfort lingered. He had spent almost three years now trying to outrun his past, but the pain was lodged so deep. The memories followed him everywhere, to the point that his daily surroundings were tainted by them. He’d rearranged his room four times since moving in, just to shake them off. Maybe he never would.

This is how it had to be.

He didn’t need a place to settle. He would proceed moment-to-moment, focus only on moving further. If his resolve weakened, he would remember Yoosung and go insane with grief all over again. Remember that moment of waking up to a scene of chaos already unfolded. Yoosung, knocked onto the ground, long limbs and disheveled hair. His right wrist bent awkwardly, making contact with the hardwood floor. And the fear in his eyes, something Saeran could never forget. He hadn’t seen an expression like that since.... Fuck. He’d never stopped being a monster, had he?

As his thoughts circled, Saeran still moved forward, stepped through intersections with barely a glance to either side. Moved over sidewalks, ignored occasional pedestrians and vehicles. The streets were mostly deserted, and he could focus on the hum of the cars, the sound they made as they passed. It was the only thing keeping him grounded. It sounded like white noise.

The hum of one car, still blocks away, caught his attention. As it moved closer, a heavy feeling settled into his chest. Saeran sped up, but he knew he was caught. Call it a twin’s instincts. Maybe he just recognized the sound of the engine.

He didn’t stop moving as the car shut down, the door opened and closed, heavy footsteps followed him down the sidewalk. Saeran kept walking as Saeyoung joined, a few paces behind him.

“Saeran. It’s me. Saeran....” Saeyoung sighed. “What are you doing?”

Saeran stopped. Saeyoung held back, maintaining the distance between them. As Saeran held still, he could feel the vibration of his brother’s voice lingering. It drew him down so quickly these days. He was too sick to feel guilt, but he knew that it was coming.

He turned his head, staring at the buildings adjacent to them across the street. “... I don’t know.”

He heard Saeyoung run hands through his hair. “You don’t know.”

Saeran shook his head. “Don’t know. Just running.”

“Saeran....” Saeyoung let a heavy silence settle between them.

Staring at his boots, Saeran felt the clouds in his head already clearing. He’d put these on in such a rush, he didn’t notice that his pants were tucked into one boot and not the other. He was beginning to notice things again. The streetlamps seemed a little brighter.

Saeyoung finally continued. “I thought we were past things like this.” It wasn’t a judgemental comment. Not impatient. His tone was filled with concern, his words honest in a way that Saeran needed to hear.

Feeling his face grow hot with shame already, Saeran frowned. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to get in the car and talk about it?” Saeyoung took a step forward, and Saeran moved away.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I c-” Saeran’s voice faltered. “I can’t go back.”

Saeyoung paused. “Because of Yoosung?”

Keeping his head low, Saeran nodded.

“He told me what happened,” Saeyoung said. “He said you had a _nightmare_. Said you kicked him out of bed in your _sleep_. And he said you just left after that.” He stepped forward again and wasn’t countered this time. “Saeran, is that true?”

Yes. That’s what happened. That’s really all that happened. But it felt so much bigger. Saeran gnawed on the inside of his lip. “I’ve never hurt him before.”

Saeyoung shook his head. “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong, right? That it wasn’t your fault?”

He didn’t answer the question. Instead, Saeran took a slow breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “What if it happens again?”

“Then you figure out a different sleeping arrangement.” Saeyoung’s voice was expressionless, but somehow comforting. “Or we find out about changing your sleeping meds. You know we don’t have to make this difficult, Saeran. He’s worried about you.”

Saeran looked at the sky and realized his vision was clouded by unshed tears. The streetlamps were such a blur, these radiating disks of golden light that shimmered the longer he stared. A couple of tears fell out of his eyes, and they resembled streetlamps again. He was still feeling disoriented.

“I always said that I could never hurt him. Not like that. Not physically.”

“You didn’t. It was an accident.”

Saeran ignored his brother’s interjection, continued in his quivering voice. “Turns out I can’t even avoid it. No matter how good I am during the day, I’ll always be bad inside. I’m still dangerous.”

“You know that’s not true.” Saeyoung took another step forward.

“I can't forget the look on his face. He looked so scared.”

“He fell two feet. You startled him.”

“He was afraid of me.”

Saeyoung closed the final two steps between them, then put his arms around his brother’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Saeran rested his face against Saeyoung’s shoulder. They stood still for a long time.

“Let me take you back to the apartment,” Saeyoung said. “I convinced him to stay put while I searched for you. He’s not hurt. He’s not upset. He’s just worried about you, and I think you’ll both feel better if you talk.”

Saeran closed his eyes, catching the smell of his brother’s coat. It managed to ground him, almost back down to his normal state of mind. He nodded. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled into the parking lot outside of Yoosung’s apartment. Saeran waited until the car was parked fully until he finally lifted up from where he’d been leaning against Saeyoung’s right arm. His brother ruffled his hair gently before putting his hands back on the steering wheel.

“You’re not coming?” Saeran asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Do you want me to?”

Saeran considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I guess not.”

Saeyoung smiled. “Go ahead on your own. It’ll be best if you two talk in private, anyway.

“Yeah.” He nodded, staring at the dashboard. Saeran put his hands on the door handle, then turned back toward his brother. “Thank you, Saeyoung.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. “Just looking out for my sweeter, better other half.”

“Yeah, yeah....” Saeran smiled as he stepped out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With the door closed behind him, Saeran headed into the apartment building.

Climbing the stairs gave him time to think of what he’d say. He’d start with apologies. No, he’d start by seeing if Yoosung was all right. Find out whether he’d really injured that wrist. Whether he was upset, whether Saeran should go home for the night. Then, if Yoosung seemed open to it, he’d apologize. First for kicking him, then for running away.

Saeran reached the correct floor and stepped off of the stairs. He lingered for a moment before approaching Yoosung’s door.

After that, they’d talk. They’d have a long conversation about what to do from here. Whether Yoosung felt unsafe. Whether they needed space or time or to stop sleeping in the same bed for a while. Saeran would probably go home tonight. He would sleep in his own bed, and let Yoosung rest comfortably in his.

When Saeran checked the doorknob, it was unlocked, so he let himself inside. The living room was still dark. He approached Yoosung’s door and knocked gently.

“Come in.” His voice sounded small. Saeran pushed the door open and walked inside.

They made eye contact. Yoosung was sitting up in bed, his comforter drawn up to his waist, his phone in his lap. He’d been crying. His shoulders slumped when Saeran walked in, his eyebrows raised, an expression of pure relief gracing his features. He held out his arms and Saeran walked forward while kicking off his shoes, crawled onto the bed, took Yoosung in his arms, any plan in his mind vanished now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, slowly stroking Yoosung’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t run away again,” Yoosung sounded hoarse. "You have to promise."

“I promise I won’t. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I did it.”

Yoosung squeezed him more tightly. “I forgive you. I’m just happy you’re here.”

Saeran hadn’t forgotten what he needed to check. He pulled away, taking Yoosung’s right arm from behind his own back to examine the wrist. It was bruised and swollen slightly. He frowned, looking up to meet Yoosung’s eyes. “How much does it hurt?”

“It’s not bad,” Yoosung said.

“Does it hurt when you move it?”

“No.”

“How about when you press on it?”

Yoosung shrugged. He lifted his other hand to press his fingers against the purple, bruised skin. “Not really. It’s not broken or anything, Saeran. I just bumped it pretty hard.”

Saeran sighed deeply, pulling Yoosung’s wrist up and placing it against his lips.

Smiling sadly, Yoosung rested his head on Saeran’s arm. “Did you think I was hurt then?”

Saeran considered the question for a moment, then answered honestly. “I thought a lot of things.”

“Like what?” He stared at Saeran, his eyes soft and earnest.

Inhaling slowly, Saeran reflected on the night. It was difficult to enter the frame of mine he’d been in just twenty minutes ago. It all felt so far away. “I thought this was it,” he said. He planted soft kisses on Yoosung’s wrist between sentences. “I thought I’d ruined everything. I finally did something I could never forgive myself for.”

“Hm? But it was an accident,” Yoosung said.

He nodded. “I know.” His lips flattened into a frown. “It’s bad enough that I hurt you at all.”

Yoosung shook his head. “Don’t you remember what I told you before? I said I’m not afraid of being hurt, if it’s for you.”

Saeran did remember. Those words were spoken so long ago, but he’d never forgotten them. “Still....”

“It was an accident. Sweetheart, I... I don’t want you to worry about it, okay? Please.”

“Okay.” No part of Saeran wanted to fight. He’d done nothing but fight for far too long. “It was scary, though, when I was out there. It felt like I’ve made no progress at all. I felt just as low as I ever have.”

“You _have_ made progress,” Yoosung said, sitting up fully. “You’re sitting here now, aren’t you? I mean, you’re so... calm. Just a year ago you would’ve been fighting about this, but now you’re not struggling at all.”

So he’d noticed it, too. Saeran lowered Yoosung’s wrist, staring at his bedspread. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know how to trust myself. I don’t know how to feel about myself. And I’m so....” He swallowed. “So fragile.”

Yoosung reached out his arms, taking Saeran against his body and holding tight. Saeran readjusted himself until he sat comfortably, his head against Yoosung’s shoulder, his legs circling his waist. He felt small and safe.

“Then I’ll tell you how to feel,” Yoosung said. He breathed a long sigh, then spoke into Saeran’s ear. “Here. Let me tell you about my boyfriend. He’s the strongest person I know, and the bravest. He’s resilient and he’s kind. A lot of bad things have happened to him. But you know what? Nothing could ever stop him from finding happiness. Nothing.”

Saeran felt tears in his eyes for the second time that night. He buried his face against Yoosung’s shoulder, saying nothing. His restrained sniffles probably said enough. Yoosung ran a hand up and down his back.

“We should go back to sleep,” he said. Saeran nodded.

After taking off his clothes and placing them at the foot of the bed, Saeran joined Yoosung under the blankets. “You still want me to sleep on the inside?” he asked.

Yoosung nodded, watching Saeran lower down beside him. “I like you there. It feels like I’m protecting you.”

Saeran smiled. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hm.” Yoosung moved closer to hold Saeran against his chest. They shared a small kiss, then closed their eyes, finally ready to rest.

Yoosung parted his lips, and spoke softly into Saeran’s ear. “I love you so much. Never doubt how good you are, okay?”

As sleep overcame him, Saeran held Yoosung’s voice in his mind. The tone of it resonated, carried into his dreams like white noise. A voice spoke through to him in his sleep. Whether the words formed on their own or came from somewhere else, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t have questioned it.

_If this isn’t a happy moment, it’s only because you’re building up to the next one. As long as you take care of  yourself, those windows into happiness will just keep getting a little bigger, a little brighter. And we’ll will always be here to support you in between. You get stronger all the time, Saeran. Every time you eat a good meal, sleep through the night, laugh at your brother’s bad jokes, go on a walk with your boyfriend. Every time you tell the bad thoughts “no.” You get just a little bit more healed. I really believe that._

_There’s a reason you stayed alive, you know? Look at how much everyone loves you. Think of all that you’ve been for us, even without trying. You stayed alive to share this joy, so thank you. You’ll get it all back in full, I promise._

_Look. The sun is coming up. But you should sleep for now. When you wake up, the day will be brand new, and so will you. So let’s try again, okay?_


	22. nothing left to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last one, although I reserve the right to add bonus chapters if there's something I really want to explore. Probably this is it, though. I'm not really sure what to say. Thank you for all the kind comments and messages. Even though I don't respond to them all, know that they've meant so so much to me. Storytelling has always been my dream and my passion, and when people like my stories it's the best feeling. Just... really overwhelmingly happy. There's more that I could say but I'm not gonna be a sap right now. I hope you've enjoyed. ♥
> 
> I couldn't think of a way to work this info in naturally, but this is the last chapter chronologically. They've been together for about three years.

Yoosung and Saeran laid on the bed, facing one another. Their bodies were curled in slightly so their knees barely touched, their faces close enough to feel one another’s breath. Saeran ran the tips of his fingers up and down the inside of Yoosung’s palm, which rested just below eye level, an absent-minded gesture that nonetheless made the hair on Yoosung’s neck stand on end.

“... Are you scared?”

Saeran’s mouth flattened. He kept moving those fingers up and down, focusing on the tiny friction against his skin, the way Yoosung’s hand curled slightly when he brushed lightly over the palm. When he answered, it was in a whisper. They spoke as though someone could be eavesdropping, although they were definitely alone in Saeran’s bedroom.

“I’m nervous.”

“Tell me why,” Yoosung whispered back, his eyes alight with interest.

Saeran’s lips curled up slightly, betraying his embarrassment. He answered honestly. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“Ah.” His eyebrows raised, Yoosung studied the look on his boyfriend’s face. He wore so much more on his expressions nowadays. Here, Saeran was wearing the type of blank-stared smile that betrayed his anxiety. Yoosung smiled back, a bit sadly. “You don’t think you’ll make a good uncle?”

“I think....” Saeran exhaled softly through his teeth. “I think I’m too clueless to know how bad I could even fuck up. But aren’t kids... vulnerable?”

Yoosung shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think kids are strong.” When he said this, Saeran’s green eyes glanced up to return his gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm.” Then he shrugged. “Oh, not to act like I know any better than you. I’m the baby of my family.”

Saeran grinned. “Who’d’ve guessed.”

Yoosung snapped his hand shut, gripping Saeran’s fingers and tugging playfully. They laughed while Saeran struggled against his grasp, finally reclaiming his hand. As Saeran rested it close to his own chest, Yoosung opened his palm again, a small part of him hoping Saeran would go back to running his fingers against it. But he didn’t, and Yoosung soon forgot.

“So....” Yoosung returned to their conversation. “You’re going to keep living here, right?”

Saeran nodded. Lowering his gaze, he rushed slightly through his quiet words. “We’ve already talked about it a lot. It’s not that I couldn’t leave, but they want me to stay. I want to stay.” He tilted his head as though recalling something. “And... they said that the baby is even more reason for me to stick around. They want me to help out.”

“That sounds ideal for all of you,” Yoosung said. He closed his eyes. “I’m almost jealous. A happy little family.”

Saeran narrowed his gaze. “I guess so.” There was a hint of wavering in his voice.

Opening his eyes, Yoosung reached over, brushing a few strands of hair away from Saeran’s face. Saeran closed his eyes as he did this, feeling the lightness of his boyfriend’s touch. When Yoosung finally pulled away, he smiled. “Hey. You’re going to be a great uncle.”

Saeran’s eyes flickered open. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“I just know it,” Yoosung whispered. “How could you not?”

Tilting his head, Saeran gave a confused smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Yoosung’s eyelids were lowered, a dopey grin spreading across his face. He pulled back the hand he’d just used to move Saeran’s hair and pressed it to his own chin. “Just look at you,” he marveled. “You’re amazing.”

For a moment, Saeran felt his face get warm, his stomach flipping in a familiar way. Then he laughed. “You dork.”

Yoosung snorted, and they burst into giggles over nothing in particular. Just a feeling in the air, a lightness between them. Saeran quieted first, watched amusedly as Yoosung calmed his own laughter, clutching the pillow below his head in one hand. As he finished laughing, Yoosung inhaled against the pillowcase in his grip, breathing in a hint of Saeran’s scent, then released it. A feeling of resolve formed in his chest. The couple stared at one another, each smiling softly.

Yoosung glanced down, then lifted his eyes again, forced himself to meet Saeran’s gaze. When he spoke, it was through a sigh. “I wanna marry you.”

They both fell silent, their eye contact held steady. Yoosung nibbled on his inner lip. Neither felt a rush to speak. The atmosphere of the room had changed, the thickness of the air, the space between them. Something had been altered. The weight of Yoosung’s confession shifted everything slightly.

Saeran answered, his voice small and hopeful. “Yeah?”

Yoosung nodded. He exhaled, inhaled, waited for judgement. “Yeah.”

“... Then ask.”

Yoosung’s eyes widened. “Ah.” He laughed nervously, feeling a massive tension released from his body with each breath. And Saeran was smiling back at him, amused and apparently confident. Yoosung thought he might burst. “Um, no,” he said, speaking in full volume for the first time. “I want to do it properly. I have to graduate first. I, uh, want to show you that I’m serious. That I can support us both.”

“Okay.” Saeran reached over and took Yoosung’s hand, pulling it toward his lips and smiling softly against his knuckles. He closed his eyes. “I’ll wait then.”

Yoosung couldn’t stop smiling. “You... really want to?”

His eyebrows furrowing, Saeran opened his eyes again and glanced downward, unfocused. He moved Yoosung’s hand further from his mouth. “Well. You know I won’t exactly be... a- a normal husband, right?”

Yoosung tilted his head. “In what way?”

“I still have really bad days. Bad weeks. I, um, might distance myself from you at times.”

“That’s okay,” Yoosung said, taking his hand back and using it to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen back onto Saeran’s face. “As hard as things get for you, I’ll give you that much more of my love.”

“... Ah.” Saeran felt his nerves building, along with the excitement in his chest. They were difficult to distinguish. “You’re really sure you’re prepared for that life?”

“Do you really need to ask, my love?”

The question caught Saeran off-guard, but he smiled, answering honestly. “No. I just like to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Yoosung responded casually. “Then... yes, I’m sure. It’s not a burden to me. Being strong for you makes me feel like the proudest man alive. If I get to see your smiling face everyday, then I know I’ll be happy forever.”

Saeran pressed his hands to his face, feeling the heat of his cheeks. He couldn’t look Yoosung in the eye right now. He needed to stay focused. “There’s more I need to be sure of.”

“What is it?”

Saeran swallowed hard, moving his hands so he could speak unobstructed. His sight was focused on the stitching on his bedspread. “When Saeyoung and I were kids, we always talked about getting away from our mom and living together. Obviously that never happened, but... now that we are together....” He shrugged. “W-we’ve talked about it a lot, and neither of us is exactly....”

“You want to keep living with your brother?” Yoosung guessed.

Weakly, Saeran nodded. He dared to take a glance at Yoosung’s face, and found that he was smiling.

“Could you imagine all four of us living together?” Yoosung said. “Oh, the four of us plus however many kids, of course. I think it’ll be fun.”

Saeran allowed himself a cautious smile. “It’s not too weird? Living with another family?”

“I want your family to be _my_ family,” Yoosung said. “And anyway, I already practically think of them as my brother and sister. It won’t be weird at all.”

“Thank you,” Saeran said, clutching his bedspread in one hand. “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for....”

Saeran’s gaze hardened. “There’s one last thing,” he said.

“Go ahead,” Yoosung said, trying to sound his most confident.

Saeran exhaled slowly. This confession had weighed on him the longest, the heaviest. Voicing it felt like lifting out a massive rock that had settled in the pit of his stomach for months. But knowing it could be the only thing standing between him and the life he wanted, he needed to be brave. He clutched the bedspread harder and spoke to the stitching.

“I don’t know when... or _if_... I’m going to want kids.”

“That’s fine.”

The immediacy of Yoosung’s answer caught him of guard. Saeran stared up blankly, his mouth still open.

Yoosung shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t, a long time ago. That’s okay, too, Saeran. _You’re_ my family, remember?”

He glanced around him, feeling that he’d cheated some moment of judgement. “S-still, that’s....”

“I don’t need anyone else,” Yoosung said. “Just us. And maybe some dogs?”

Saeran let out a small, relieved laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Um, that sounds fine.”

Yoosung moved forward, scooting his way across the bed to lie flush against Saeran’s body, taking his cheeks in his hands. He stared hard into Saeran’s gaze, his own eyes wide and clear. Their breath intermingling, Yoosung brushed his thumb softly against Saeran’s cheek. He momentarily bit his lip and glanced downward. Then, claiming his resolve, he looked back up and spoke confidently. “Can _I_ ask for reassurance now?”

Saeran nodded automatically, feeling a bit weak under Yoosung’s touch. How could he still have this effect after all this time? It was all in these rare moments of total confidence.

“Will you stay by my side?” Yoosung said. He refused to break their eye contact, needing to know every expression on Saeran’s face. “Even when I’m weak? Even when I’m clueless? Even when I don’t understand, or when I make a mistake?” His voice caught momentarily in his throat. “Will you still love me e-even if I... if someday I look different, or if I get hurt?”

“Yes,” Saeran whispered, not bothering to wait and find out whether he had finished. “The answer is all yes.”

Yoosung didn’t hesitate to kiss him. It was tender and slow, their lips meeting so gradually each time but lingering once they interlocked, as though unwilling to part. Every inch where their bodies made contact felt deeply warm. Yoosung held Saeran’s face in his hands, feeling the blooming heat of his boyfriend's cheeks and knowing his probably felt the same.

When they broke apart, they wore identical expressions. Eyelids lowered, mouths hanging open, breathing softly. Then they both smiled.

“I love you. Always, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Always.”

Yoosung opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again. They both remained still through this weighted moment. They observed the silence, their own motionlessness. Neither of them spoke. For now, there was nothing left to say.


End file.
